


Watford Tales Part 3

by PeregrineBones



Series: Watford Tales [3]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9685445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeregrineBones/pseuds/PeregrineBones
Summary: This is Part Three of Watford Tales, an AU where Carry On has a different ending. The Mage is not killed, Ebb survives, the Humdrum is still at large and Simon still has his power. Simon, Baz, Penelope and Agatha all return to school for another term. Simon and Baz have to work out their relationship, deal with their friends, and try to fight the Mage and the Humdrum. A tale of love, friendship, romance, loyalty, courage and adventure. And magic. And first times. And vampires. And dragons. And flying in the snow. And destiny. A continuation ofWatford Tales Part One http://archiveofourown.org/works/8794180/chapters/20161426 andWatford Tales Part Two http://archiveofourown.org/works/9146110/chapters/20779141.





	1. Kaleidoscope Eyes

**Simon**

The next two days just suck.

I give up my room to Penny and Micah and sleep on Dev and Niall’s floor. Which actually would be kind of fun, as those two generally treat me pretty well these days and know how to have a laugh. Except that everyone is so worried about the goblin attack, and Mordelia being kidnapped and Baz having to go home, that no one is in a very good mood.

And I miss Baz.

And I feel stupid. Like I should be doing something and I can’t think what. Like I’m wasting time.

It doesn’t help that Penny is distracted by Micah. Normally she’d be rehashing the details of that night, of the goblin attack, and what Fiona said when she came to get Baz, of what we know and what we don’t know, until she drove me crazy. Until we got somewhere. Or felt like we were getting somewhere.

I spend time with Ebb. She has named the gwythaint Johnny Depp, and now he won’t answer to anything else. Oh well. He’s getting bigger, fiercer looking. I don’t think he can stay with Ebb and the goats much longer. Ebb has gotten attached to him, but she’s also worried he might eat one of the kids.

We have a strategy meeting the second night, in the nursery, under the restless white hare, but we don’t come up with much. Niall went to the Coven meeting, which sounds like it was a confused mess. People are breaking into factions, taking sides. No one knows where the Mage is hiding or why he would take Mordelia. Malcolm Grimm ended up stalking out in a white hot rage (kind of like something his son would do.) Penny is going to try to get something out of her mum, the rest of us are going to poke around and see what we can come up with. Penny wants me to see if I can get anything more out of Ebb, which I would object to more if I had anything better to offer. I think about going back to my halal man, but my instinct tells me he doesn’t want to be questioned. He rescued us when we needed him most. I don’t want to thank him by harassing him.

It’s the second night of tossing and turning on the floor of Dev and Niall’s room when I hear a dull thud at the window. I look out and there, in the moonlight, is a centaur. His bow is in his hand, and there’s an arrow stuck in the side of the wooden window frame.

He’s beautiful, long white blonde hair flowing down his back, his bare chest glowing white in the moonlight, his legs and flanks a deep rich brown. He looks right at me and gestures with his head to come with him. I nod once and turn to pull on some clothes. Dev and Niall are both up, sitting in bed, Dev looking half asleep, Niall, unnaturally alert. They want to come with me. I’m really not sure if that’s a good plan, but I kind of like the idea of company, so I agree, and the three of us dress hurriedly and sneak downstairs.

The centaur nods at my two companions. He doesn’t seem to object, but turns without a word, into the woods. We follow, the crusty snow crunching beneath our feet. The moon is riding high in the sky and it’s easy to see. We walk for a long time, deep into the forest, to a part I’ve never been to. The trees grow close together here, thin whippy birches with white bark that glows in the moonlight, their branches casting blue shadows on the snow. The silence is broken by the sharp barking of wolves, echoing crazily in the still night. It sends a shiver right through me, though I figure nobody’s going to bother us in the company of a centaur.

At last we see the orange glow of a fire off in the distance. Another few minutes of walking brings us to a clearing in the forest. There’s about ten of them there, mostly males, but a couple of females as well. The moonlight is shining on their bare breasts. There are several foals, dozing sleepily by the fire. The adults are all standing silently, their eyes on the three of us. The bloke who brought us bows ever so slightly, with the bend one front leg and a slight lowering of his majestic head to another, larger centaur, older, with flecks of grey in his masses of black curly hair and black beard.

“The Chosen One,” the first centaur says, presenting us. “And his companions.” And he steps aside.

The black haired centaur looks us over with dark eyes that glow in his deeply lined face. He seems to hesitate, just for a moment.

“Simon,” he says in a deep rumbly voice, that sounds like gravel. “Simon Snow.”

“Yes sir?” I breathe.

“Son of David Weir. He who calls himself the Mage.”

“Yes, sir,” I say again.

“But you have cast your lot against him?”

“Yes, I have,” I say.

“Your wand and your sword?”

“Yes.”

“Your companions have pledged to fight him?” he asks, looking at Dev and Niall. “Yes,” Niall whispers. He’s as white as the snow on the ground, but his head is high. Dev looks like he might throw up, but he swallows hard and whispers “Yes.”

“We have watched him for many years. Watched and waited. We have observed his ambition, his callousness. We do not like to involve ourselves in the affairs of men. Do I make myself clear?”

“No,” I say, looking at him steadily. As humble as I can, but still. ”I don’t understand, sir. With all respect. Why did you bring me here?”

The centaur looks up at the sky. He is quiet for a long time. The wolves howl again, off in the distance. It sounds like they are moving away from us.

“The universe turns,” he says, “and the signs have changed. You are at the crux of a great struggle that is coming. An upheaval. The one of dark matter, the one who was created when your power was born, is growing stronger.”

“The Humdrum,” I whisper.

“As you choose to call him,” the centaur says. “He has another, darker name, that we do not utter. For years we have stood by and watched his power grow. But the stars speak to us. Tonight, I brought you here to warn you.”

“All right,” I say.

“David Weir wishes to lure you to where he is hiding. He has an innocent in his grasp, your lover’s sister. His messenger will come tomorrow evening, expecting you to follow him. It is a trap. You cannot prevail. You must resist the temptation to follow him.”

“All right,” I say again.

The centaur again casts his eyes at the sky. He looks up for so long I wonder if he’s forgotten us.

“Sir?” I say at last. He looks at me sharply. “Pardon me sir, but, what do I do, then? How do I prevail? Mordelia is, as you say, an innocent. We have to rescue her. And…. and….. I’m afraid, if I fight the Humdrum, I’ll just tear more holes in the magic of the universe. I don’t know how to fight him, sir.”

“If you are clever, you will be able to discern their location from the messenger. David Weir is amassing an army. Discontented humans, goblins, vampires and wraiths. You will need reinforcements to get the child out alive. You cannot do it on your own. Approach your friends, your elders. The man who sells the lamb, the woman who herds the goats, and her family. Her mother is a woman of great power. And you will need the father of the girl and his allies.

“Mr. Grimm?” I ask “Baz’s dad?”

“Indeed, he says. “It is only as a unified force that you will prevail.” He looks over at Dev and Niall. “Your parents also, will be needed,” he says. Niall nods, once, and I see his backbone stiffen. Dev gulps, and nods as well.

“And will you help us?” I ask.

“We choose not to entangle ourselves in the affairs of men,” he replies.

“We could use the help,” I say. “If the situation is as dire as you say it is.”

“Indeed it is,” he replies. “The future of magick hangs in the balance.”

“So help us,” I say. “Please?”

“We will consult the stars, and follow their direction,” he says, with a finality that makes me realize I’ve got to back off. Oh well. At least it wasn’t a flat out no.

We stand and look into each other’s eyes for a long moment. His eyes are like kaleidoscopes, grey and black and blue, swirling in a circular pattern, and for a moment I feel I can see the world as he does, moving slowly, each breeze, each blade of grass, each human action, moving to a pattern determined by all that has gone before it. Destiny constantly arranging itself around every miniscule change in the present.

“Sir?” I say at last. He nods for me to go on.

“I’m not afraid of the Mage. I’m not afraid of the vampires or the goblins or the wraiths. I’ll do what I have to do when the time comes to fight them. But I’m afraid of the Humdrum. I don’t know how to fight him. I don’t have any idea.”

He looks at me with those endless eyes with the universe swirling in them. “You must be true to your heart,” he says at last.

“Yes, sir.”

“You must show great courage.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You must give everything you have.”

“Yes, sir.

“You must not fail.”

Great.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“You don’t have anything more….. specific?”

“No Simon,” he says and there is pity in those deep kaleidoscopic eyes. I turn away, afraid of the destiny I might see in them. If it is bad I will be better off not knowing. “I’m sorry I do not. But if you are true of heart you will prevail.”

“Will I survive? Will…..will my friends survive?” I ask. My palms are sweating. I am afraid of the answer.

“That is a destiny I cannot read. There are too many changes to come before that destiny is fulfilled.”

“I wish…..” I say, staring at the ground. “I wish I had some clue how to fight him.”

“It is in your heart Simon. Trust in your heart and you will find a way.”

I keep staring at the ground. My magic is rising, crackling on my skin, smoke in the back of my throat the way I get when I’m upset. I shake myself, swallow it down. I need to keep it together, even though the disappointment I feel is bitter. If the centaurs can’t tell me how to fight the Humdrum, who can?

I raise my head and look back up into those swirling eyes. “May I ask a few more things?” I say.

He nods at me.

“My friend in London. The man who runs the halal stand. Who is he?”

He nods again. “He is a mage from another land. We do not know him well. But he seems to have developed an affinity for you. And his heart is true.”

I nod, satisfied. “And my mother, Lucy Salisbury?” I ask. “Do you know her fate? Is she still alive?”

The centaur looks away from me for the first time. He glances at the white blonde one, who nods at him briefly, then steps forward. “Simon,” the other centaur says. His voice is too gentle. His eyes are green kaleidoscopes, with gold flecks, like sunlight through trees. I stare into them and I cannot look away. I know, suddenly that what he is going to tell me is not what I want to hear. The world is in those swirling eyes, past, present and future, each, moment, each tiny decision, reverberating forward and affecting all the moments that follow. “Simon, I am sorry to tell you that your mother, Lucy Salisbury, died soon after you were born. She died not far from here, at the school you attend. She lived long enough to hold you, and to name you and to love you. That is all the time she had with you. Your father buried her in these woods, in an unmarked grave. I can show you the place, if you like, though not tonight, I think.”

I let his words wash over me, and as long as I am looking into those green and gold swirling eyes it is all right, because it is all part of a destiny, part of a majestic pattern that exists outside of human need and understanding. If I can just keep staring into his eyes forever I will be all right.

But of course, I can’t. Niall moves forward, and puts a hand on my shoulder. A moment later, Dev does the same. The centaur looks away, breaking the spell. My eyes are hot with tears and my mouth is full of smoke.

I let the tears fall. What else can I do? I let go of the dream of having some kind of a real parent, a family that actually cares about me.

“At least she died,” says Naill, hoarsely. “At least she didn’t abandon you.” And although it’s true, I can’t think about it like that right now. All I can feel is the loss.

In the silent circle, one of the females, with russet hair tumbling in waves down her back and a deep black coat steps forward. ”Know this,” she says, locking her eyes onto mine. They are whirls of palest blue and grey, like a snowstorm. “Lucy Salisbury’s spirit is restless. She came from beyond the veil to see you.”

“She did?” I say, in wonder. “I… I don’t remember.”

“She called you her rosebud boy,” she says gently.

“Oh,” I say. The details of that night come back to me in a flash. “I thought that was Baz’s mother. I thought that was Natasha Grimm-Pitch.”

She smiles at me then, and I feel a tiny bit better. “It was your mother,” she says. “She loved you and she came back to see you. I hope that gives your heart a small amount of comfort.”

“I…. thank you,” I stammer.

The night is completely still. The fire crackles softly. One of the foals cries out in it’s sleep and the russet haired centaur goes to comfort it. An owl calls in the night, it’s whooping cry reverberating in the trees.

“It is time to go,” says the leader, the black haired one. “Know this. The centaurs hope that you succeed. We bestow our blessing upon you” He bows, and recedes back into the shadows before I can thank him.

The blond haired centaur gestures with his head for us to follow him, and starts moving away from their camp, back into the trees.

I look over at the russet haired female once more. She has settled down beside the fire, comforting her foal. She must sense me looking at her, though, because she looks up at me, once more, with those swirling eyes, which are somehow warm in spite of their icy color.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Follow your heart, Chosen One,” she says. “It is strong and true. Turn to your friends. They are a blessing to you. May destiny turn in your favor.”

She turns her attention back to her foal, a little child with blond curls tumbling about it’s head who looks up at me sleepily with eyes of deepest brown. I follow the others out of the clearing and into the woods.


	2. The Hunting Lodge

**Baz**

My parent’s hunting lodge is deep in the woods. Even though the house in Hampshire was isolated it never felt that far away. This house feels like it’s so far away, it’s unreachable. Like we’re at the bottom of a glass fishbowl, cut off from the rest of the world.

It’s good for hunting. The woods around are teeming with game, and I’ve nothing much else to do other than hunt, so I’m full of blood. Which just makes me miss Simon more.

I’m bored. Father’s not really speaking to me, even though he sent for me. He and Daphne go off to the Coven meeting the first night, leaving me home with my siblings. I’m not yet of age, my birthday’s not for another month, so I can’t go. As soon as their car pulls out of the drive the twins, Bryony and Martina, come creeping out to the great room where I’ve built up the fire in the massive stone fireplace that dominates the room. They’re five, and supposed to be in bed. Vera tucked them up hours ago.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” I tell them. They’re both wearing these fuzzy sleepsuits, with feet. Martina’s is pink and Bryony’s is yellow. They’re not identical, although some people think they are. I’ve never had any trouble telling them apart. They're both dark haired, with delicate pale skin, but Bryony has the thinner face, her eyes are huge and serious. Martina’s face is softer, her eyes are wider set, her mouth fuller. Her hair has a bit of a wave to it. It’s not completely straight like Bryony’s (and mine).

“We want to be with you,” says Bryony, looking at me steadily.

“We miss Mordelia,” Martina chimes in.

“We want cocoa,” Bryony adds.

“All right,” I say. It’s not like I have anything better to do.

We go into the cold dark kitchen and find milk and a pan. I heat the milk with my wand and stir in cocoa powder. We carry our mugs back out to the fire. Daphne keeps afghans and pillows in this big wood chest by the fireplace and I dig those out and we all wrap up and stare at the flames and drink our cocoa. The firelight plays over bear rug on the floor in front of the hearth, the huge set of antlers fixed above the mantel. My family has been hunting here for generations.

“Tell us a story,” says Bryony.

So I do.

I dig back, deep into my memory, and find the stories my mother told me. They’re right there, waiting to be told. Simple childhood tales, like any parent tells their kid. The princess, locked in the tower, waiting to be rescued. The young wizard, who has to slay the dragon and save the village. The brownies, who come in the night, wash the dishes and leave little treasures for the children.

They’re asleep before I run out of stories, and in the end I curl up on the sofa and sleep as well. Of course I dream; vague, half nightmares of Simon, Father, Mordelia. A goblin bearing down on me with his sword, the Humdrum, with his stupid red ball. I wake in a sweat. The fire is embers. My sisters are sleeping, Martina curled in a chair with her thumb in her mouth, Bryony on the other end of the sofa with her butt in the air. I hear the crunch of gravel in the driveway, a sound I find strangely comforting. My parents are back from the Coven meeting.

They come in and survey the scene. Daphne smiles at me, Father just proceeds to the kitchen. I follow them in there. Father turns on the harsh overhead light and sits heavily at the kitchen table. Daphne makes tea, then puts a bottle of whiskey beside my father’s cup. He splashes some into his tea, then looks over at me, the bottle in his hand. I nod, and he pours a shot into a second cup of tea which he hands to me.

It’s quiet in the kitchen. The clock ticks. We drink our tea. I feel the heat of the whiskey hit me in the back of my throat, my belly.

“Basilton,” he says at last, breaking the silence.

“Tell me about the meeting,” I say.

So they do. It sounds like it was a disaster. No one could agree. No one knows what to do. There’s no plan. People are scared, and frustrated. There’s no clue where the Mage is hiding or where he might have taken Mordelia. Father looks……. I’ve never seen him like this…...defeated, sad. Daphne’s sitting beside him, her pale face drawn, her eyes unnaturally bright. When we get to the part where he lost it and stormed out of the meeting she takes his hand and holds it.

“I’m glad you’re here Basil,” he says at last, rising to go to bed.

“Thank you, Father,” I say. “There’s just one thing.”

He looks over at me.

“Simon,” I say. “He’s on our side now.”

His face turns stony in an instant. “You can’t know that,” he says.

“I know him,” I say.

“He is the protege of the Mage.”

“He’s turned against him.”

“How can you prove that?”

“I don’t have to prove it. It’s obvious to me. I’ve been roommates with him since we were children. And we’re more than that now. I know how he thinks.”

“He has you blindsided.”

“We could use his power right now.”

“He’s not one of us. We don’t know where he comes from, who his people are.”

“Yes we do,” I say. “His mum is Lucy Salisbury.”

Father looks at me sharply. “How do you know that?” he asks.

“We went to the Magickal Registry and looked it up. David Weir is his father. Lucy Salisbury is his mother.”

Father sits down again in the kitchen chair, sinks his head into his hands. “The Mage’s son, then,” he says. I nod.

“I don’t like you mixed up with him.”

“Well it’s too late. I am mixed up with him. The crucible cast us together when we were eleven years old. And I’m in love with him. And we won’t beat the Mage without his power.”

“You expect him to choose you and your family over his own father.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Simon always does the right thing. It’s his nature. His destiny. He’ll always choose good over evil.”

“And because you believe he loves you.”

“Yes.”

“I think you’re naive.”

I stare at him. I don’t know what to say. I feel stung to the core. I know I’m right , but I don’t know how to convince him. And I’m afraid we’re running out of options.

“He wants me to make up with you,” I say at last. “Before it’s too late.”

Father sits there and looks into my face for a long moment. The clock ticks on the wall.

“Malcolm,” says Daphne quietly. He looks over at her. “It’s nearly morning. We’re all exhausted. Let’s think over what Baz has said.” She holds out her hand to him. He takes it and rises. “Let’s get the girls back to bed,” she says.

We go out to the living room, the three of us. Father picks up Martina and I pick up Bryony. She’s soft and warm and smells like sleep. We tuck them into their beds, and then I slip off to my own room without a word. The window is blue with the light of dawn. My bed is this rusticky wooden affair. The sheets are cold. I miss Simon. It’s a long time before I fall asleep.

*********

When I wake it feels like the middle of the day. It’s a gray day, uninspired. I feel frowsy and unkempt. I take a shower and go to the kitchen and pour a cup of coffee from the pot by the sink. No one seems to be about. I make toast and eat it standing by the window, staring out at the snow. It seems as if it’s been winter forever.

I wander over to the piano in the great room, a baby grand. I miss my violin. I’m not much of a pianist, but I know a little and I start losing myself in the music, picking out some jazzy chords that remind me of Simon, of sex with Simon. I must have been playing about half an hour when I look up to find Bryony staring at me, her eyes bright, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Show me how,” she says.

I let her sit on the piano bench beside me. I show her some basic chords and how to play Twinkle Twinkle. Her fingers are chubby, still baby fingers, really. Her pale face is serious, intense. She has a widow’s peak, just like father and me. We play until Vera comes to tell us that lunch is ready.

*********

It’s a long unsatisfying day. Dev’s father comes over, then Fiona shows up. There’s a lot of talk. In the end I remove myself from it. They’re not getting anywhere. It’s a classic kidnapping situation. Until the Mage reveals his hand, let’s us know what he’s after, we’re stuck. There’s a sullen dinner, then Fiona gets angry and goes off in a huff, saying she’s going to try some finding spells, at least that will be doing something. If anyone can find Mordelia it’s probably Fiona, and it probably doesn’t hurt that she’s mad. Her magic works best when she’s emotional. Dev’s dad and Father sit by the fire and start drinking. Daphne puts the children to bed, then sits in the kitchen, staring at the wall. I head for the woods to hunt. It’s a relief to get away.

It’s a clear night. The three quarter moon is reflecting brightly on the snow covered landscape. There’s a soft breeze blowing from the south. Spring is definitely on the way. I get three rabbits without any difficulty, and I’m heading back to the house over the soft snow, my belly full of blood, when I see a glint of movement, high above me. Wings, reflecting silver in the moonlight. A distant object, far away, but getting nearer. Descending towards me. A skinny tail whipping about crazily in the sky. It’s getting closer, more details are visible. I’m rooted to the spot, staring. My heart is leaping in my chest, and then a rush of air, a beating of wings, and Simon is landing in the snow beside me. We come together with a crash, hard body against hard body, his mouth smashing into mine. His wings are enfolding me like a tent, his tail around my thighs, pulling me into him. He takes my face in both hands and kisses me, and kisses me again. His breath is hot in my face, and we’re both laughing. My hands go around his back, to where all those crazy muscles for his wings are beating and trembling. He’s kissing me again, his tongue reaching hungrily into my mouth, hot, insistent. He’s moving his chin against mine. I hold him close, chest to chest. He pulls my hips tight against his with his tail, and I feel his cock, hard and demanding, pushing against my own.

“What are you doing here?” I say, when we come up for air.

“Came to see you,” he says with a grin.

“Is there any news?” I ask.

“Yeah,“ he says. “Sex first.”

I can’t really argue. I want him so much I’m not sure I can walk. My limbs feel heavy, not quite under my control. My dick feels huge, pressing against my flies.

“Come with me,” I croak out.

There’s a sauna on the side of the house that goes along with the woodsy outdoorsy theme of this place. I drag him in there and open the door.There's a little changing room with a shower and some towels. Beyond that is the door to the sauna. I open it and hot dry air comes rolling out.

Simon just stares.

“What is this place?” he says . He’s standing there in the doorway with his wings flapping gently on either side.

“It’s a sauna.”

“Your house has a sauna?”

“It’s a hunting lodge.”

He just looks at me.

“Daphne has the groundsman light a fire in here for me so I can warm up after I hunt.”

“She does?”

“Yeah.” Daphne has a way of looking out for me. We’ve never, ever talked about the fact that I am a vampire. But she finds little ways to make it easier on me.

Simon just stands there and shakes his head. I pull him into the changing room and start pulling off his clothes. He’s wearing an unfamiliar cloak and a ratty looking jumper with _Watford Rowing_ stitched on it.

“What are you wearing?” I ask as I pull off the jumper..

His head comes out of the neck of the jumper with a bounce of copper curls. “I borrowed some things off Niall.” He shrugs and looks down. “I didn’t want to ruin my new coat.”

We get each other undressed, I grab a bottle of lotion that’s sitting on a shelf by the shower and we head into the dry heat of the sauna. Simon looks beautiful in the low light, majestic, his wings framing him. I reach out to hold him and they come around me again, enclosing me against him. His skin feels so good. He’s leaning against the wooden bench, that’s built into the wall for people to sit on. I plant my hands on his back, just below the wings, and hold on. His tail wraps around my left thigh, anchoring me to him. We kiss. We kiss again. His cock is pushing into my stomach and he shifts his hips toward me, until my cock is against his arse, pushing against the crack and he spreads his legs with a sharp intake of breath. His head dips to my neck and he’s taking little hard bites there that feel so good, I almost think they might put me over the edge. I push him back a bit, get some of the lotion on my fingers and rub it onto his cock and then onto his entrance, making circles with my fingers until he’s moaning and pulling me towards him, into him, his eyes, closed, his head thrown back. I plant my feet and thrust into him. The pressure of it is so intense - everything is so intense - the heat of the sauna, his wings around me. I thrust once more and he pushes back against me. He’s all around me. It’s so tight and so good. It's too good suddenly. It hits me all at once, and I’m coming, halfway inside him before I can even stop myself.

I slump against him, completely beyond anything, resting there in the shelter of his wings. He’s kissing me, my head, my face. His cock is pushing against my belly.

“I came too fast,” I whisper into his hair.

“It’s all right,” he whispers back.

“I feel stupid,” I say.

“Don’t,” he says. “I like it.”

“You do?”

He nods “It’s sexy.”

“It is?”

“I like it when you lose control. It’s hot.“ He smiles at me. His eyes are burning into mine and his cock is pushing into my stomach. He takes my hand and puts it on him. He moans and starts thrusting against my hand. “Baz,” he whispers, “put your finger in me.”

“What?”

He takes my other hand impatiently, and pushes it back toward his arse.

“You want that?”

“Yeah,” he says, breathing hard, his nostrils flared.

His arse is wet and slippery with my cum and I push a finger inside and he moans and pushes harder against my hand. I push my finger in farther, into that warm tight space and start fucking him with it a little, pushing in and out. His breathing is coming in gasps now. He’s writhing against me, fucking my hand hard, moaning, into my ear. He throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut, as he comes hard into my hand.

We’re both slick with sweat, his wings and tail are filling the tiny room, and I wonder, vaguely about how you’re not really supposed to have sex in saunas and whether we’re both just going to pass out and die from the heat. I trace the muscles of his shoulders with my mouth. They’re hot and smooth and glistening with moisture.

At last we stir and rouse ourselves. Simon closes his eyes for a minute and his wings and tail pull back into his body. We tumble out of the hot room in a daze, into the shower where we soap each other down, then we sit, wrapped in towels, as he tells me about his meeting with the centaurs and everything they said.

“Hungry?” I say at last.

He grins up at me. “Yeah.”

We dress and I lead him through the basement and up some stairs to the kitchen, where Daphne is typing furiously on her laptop. “Simon’s here,” I announce, without apology or hesitation. May as well try to set things off on the right footing. She doesn’t look too surprised to see him.

“Sit down, Simon," she says, rising. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”


	3. Second Go

**Simon**

Baz’s other house is this huge hunting lodge type of thing made of enormous logs and stones. Of course. It’s like something out of a movie except I can’t think which one. Lord of the Rings, maybe.

His stepmum is being nice to me in a different way. Like she’s actually glad to see me, not just being polite. She looks different. Older, tireder. Like she’s been crying. Which, considering her daughter was just kidnapped, makes sense. She makes ham sandwiches for Baz and me and pours us lemonade. I’m not sure Baz is going to eat in front of her, but he does, turning his head so she can’t see his fangs. She sits down opposite me and looks me right in the eye.

“Basilton thinks you can help us get Mordelia back,” she says, her gaze intense.

“Tell her,” says Baz.

“What the centaurs said?” I ask.

‘’Yeah.”

“What centaurs?” she asks, sharp.

“They came to talk to me,” I say.

So I go over it again for Daphne, leaving out the part about my mom is really dead. I haven’t told Baz that part either. I don’t feel quite ready to say that part aloud. At the end of my tale she looks over at Baz. “Your father needs to know this,” she says, a determined look on her face.

“I know,” he says, rising. “Let’s get it over with.”

I don’t particularly relish facing Malcolm Grimm, but Baz and his step mum look completely determined, and it’s what the centaurs told me to do. We leave the kitchen which is kind of like an ordinary posh person’s kitchen, if there is such a thing, and head out into what I guess is the lounge, except it’s huge. High, high ceilings, huge glass windows lining one wall, this enormous stone fireplace with a fire blazing. There are these crazy antlers hanging over it, creepy looking animal heads on the wall (I see a deer, a fox, a bear, and something that looks like a wolf), a grand piano in one corner, and a huge bearskin rug on the floor. Baz’s Dad is sitting in front of the fireplace with another old bloke, and they turn and stare at us as we enter. It feels like it takes forever to cross that huge space to where they are sitting and by the time we get to them, Baz’s Dad is standing, whisky glass in hand, staring at me with open hostility.

Great.

“You!” he says to me. The other bloke hauls himself out of his chair like it's not that easy for him and stands next to Mr. Grimm.

I don’t know what to say. I feel my magic, shimmering on my skin before I can swallow it back. Baz comes up next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Father,” he says

“The Mage’s Heir,” Mr. Grimm says to me, like he’s spitting. “You are not welcome here.”

I spread my hands, open. I’m trying to be humble, but this suddenly feels very important and my power is rising. I feel it pouring off me, feel the electric crackle of it in the air. The magic tingles between my shoulder blades, my wings wanting to burst out, and I hold them in, consciously. Baz’s fingers on my shoulder feel like they’re made of steel. Mr. Grimm’s friend reaches for his wand and points it at me.

“I’m on your side,” I say.

“You are his weapon,” Mr. Grimm replies. “His son. He has been preparing you to go against us since birth. Why would you cast your lot with us?”

I look him in the eye. What can I say? I’m in love with your son? I hate my Dad? It’s the right thing to do?

“All the Mage ever wanted to do was use me,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “I’m done with him now.”

He stares at me, glassily, and I realize that he’s drunk. “How are you going to prove that, Chosen One?” he asks.

Baz gives my shoulder the slightest of squeezes, and suddenly I don’t care what Malcolm Grimm thinks. All these old men, judging me, using me. “I can’t prove it,” I say, returning his glare. Most people find it hard to stare me down. “You’ll have to take me at my word.”

He stares right back at me. His eyes are pale blue, bloodshot. Nothing like Baz’s. “I won’t,” he says, and turns away.

“He has information,” Baz says. “A lead. He can help us get Mordelia back.”

“We welcomed him into our house in Hampshire and now it’s a hole in the ground.”

“That was the Humdrum, not him!”

“They’re the same thing as far as I can tell!”

“It wasn’t his fault!” shouts Baz.

“He draws trouble! I told you I don’t want you associating with him and you defy me!”

“I love him!” Baz’s words echo in the huge room, off the stone fireplace and the glassy eyed animals on the walls.

Malcolm Grimm turns to me. “I don’t want you in this house," he says. His face is red, furious, and his lips are wet with spit. “You Nancy. I won’t have you shagging my son in my home.”

“Too late, Father,” Baz says, defiance blazing in his grey eyes. He let’s go of my shoulder and reaches for his wand. In an instant, his Dad’s wand is out as well, and they’re standing there, facing each other off. I put my hand to my thigh, ready to call my sword.

“Malcolm!” Daphne’s voice rings out. She’s a small woman, thin, with her blond hair cut in this wedge shape. I’ve always thought of her as kind of cold, but she doesn’t look cold now. She’s standing with her legs apart, her wand is out, her eyes are fierce. She looks mad, and terrifying. She strides between her husband and his son, grabs hold of Mr. Grimm’s wand and points it to the ground. “You’re drunk,” she says to him. ”Put your wand away. I won’t have dueling in this house.” Mr Grimm stares at her, then at Baz, then turns away, his shoulders sagging.

“Simon is here in good faith," she says angrily. "He has information that may help us get Mordelia back. I am going to work with him. You can join us or not. But I am going to do everything I can to get my daughter back.” He kind of slumps against her, deflated.

“Go to bed, you two," she says to me and Baz. “You too, Thaddeus," she says, turning to the other bloke. “I had Vera make up the red room for you. You know where it is. I’ll send a bird for Fiona. We’ll make a plan in the morning.” She looks at her husband. “You’re free to join us, if you’re sober,” she says. “But I won’t let any chance of getting Mordelia back slip away.”

********

Baz’s room is fixed up like something in a log cabin. The walls are wood panels and the bed is made out of big chunks of wood with the bark still on them. The mattress is soft as a cloud. It’s so good to have him back in my arms.

“My mother is dead,” I tell him, as I hold him close. “I asked the centaurs and they knew all about it.”

Baz’s eyes are deep grey pools, filled with tenderness. “She’s dead?” he says. “How did it happen?”

“She died right after I was born. They told me he buried her in an unmarked grave. In the Wavering Woods.”

“Oh, Simon.”

“They said she held me. And named me. And...and loved me. And she came back, when the veil lifted. The rosebud boy. That was me, not you.”

“Your Mother came? When the veil lifted?

I nod, and I can feel the hot tears pricking my eyes. “Two moms. On the same night. Yours and mine.”

He’s kissing my eyes, and I’m letting the tears fall. “No family," I say. “My mother died. I’ll never have a chance with her. It’s over. There’s no one.”

“I’m your family,” he says. “I love you. We can be a family. You and me”

It does make me feel better. That he would say that. Even though I can’t really imagine a future like that.

“If we both survive,” I say.

“We’ll survive,” he says. “We’ll be together. You and me. We’ll…. We’ll get a puppy.”

That makes me laugh. “You don’t even like animals.”

“That’s true.”

“And we all ready have a baby gwythaint,” I say. I take my hand and push his hair back off his forehead, running my fingers through his fine, silky, black hair.

“No thank you,” he says, smiling back at me. “I don’t really fancy a pet gwythaint.”

I love him. Baz. It’s still so strange to me. We fought each other so hard for so many years. Why is it that now he’s the most important thing I have? Why is it that the safest place I’ve ever known is in his arms?

He starts kissing me and even though we just did it an hour ago I want more. I want him again. Am I a sex maniac? I wonder vaguely. But I also have an idea.

"Let's have a second go," I whisper in his ear.

"What?" he says.

“Shag me now.” 

“We just did.”

“I know,” I say. “But if we do it again, we’ll have more .. you know…..stamina.”

“Like _**Candle in the Wind**_?”

“Yeah. Except I don’t actually know how to do that spell. But I think this will work.”

He smirks at me. I kiss him and push him back on the bed. I don’t get much resistance.

******  
**Baz**

Simon’s right. It’s better this time.

He’s over me, straddling me, bending down to kiss me with those long, slow, expert kisses that just make we want more, more, more. He kisses my neck, tonguing the old bite scar like it’s a separate erogenous zone, kissing my ears and making me giggle. He plants a knee on either side of me, his hands on both my shoulders, smiling down at me.When I enter him it's that intense pressure, all around my cock, like nothing I’ve ever felt, but this time, I’m ready for it. He’s perfectly still, rock solid, his eyes squeezed shut, his head high above me, bronze curls glinting in the low lamplight. I thrust a bit and he sighs out a long, breath, relaxing, letting me in. I thrust in a little further. It’s so intense. He pushes back a little to meet me. I push in even further and he pushes back and there it is, a rhythm, he’s moving down to meet me with every thrust, and it’s so good but I’m hanging on. The pleasure is building, growing deeper. I put my hand on his cock and feel it sliding, back and forth with each thrust. His knees are rooted to the bed, his thighs like tree trunks on either side of me, and now I’m close. I know I can’t hold out much longer. “Baz,” he croaks out, and I open my eyes. He’s looking down at me, his eyes blazing, sweat beaded on his forehead, his hair a wild tangle of curls. He’s beautiful, and I reach for his mouth to pull him close to me and the world explodes around us as we come.

*******  
**Simon**

Baz is beautiful right before he comes, his black hair spread on the pillow, his lips a maroon bruise against his pale skin, his face tight with concentration and pleasure. Reaching for me, crying out, pulling me close.


	4. Rainy Day With Fangs

**Simon**

At first I think it’s just a dream, but then I know it’s real. Baz is above me, his eyes wild and far away. His fangs are out, his lips pulled back in a vicious snarl. He’s pushing me back on the bed and lowering his head to my neck, his mouth open wide, his teeth gleaming. “Baz!” I yell, and try to push him off me, but he’s too strong for me right now. “Baz!” I yell again, I take a fist and thump him on the back, hard, and thrust my knee up into his belly. “Wake up!” I scream. “You’re dreaming!”

He shakes his head, and his eyes gradually focus on me, first in recognition, then in horror. He loosens his grip and slowly backs away from me, until he’s sitting on the end of the bed. He looks half asleep, pale and drawn. We’re both naked, and the room is cold. He shivers. I move to draw him close to me, to put my arms around him and warm him up, but he puts up a hand up to stop me.

‘What happened?” he says shakily. We both know what happened.

“I think you were dreaming,” I say.

He nods. “It was the Mage,” he says, his eyes far away. “He was in the room, he had Mordelia. Father was there. It was all dark, but I knew I had to kill him, for my mother, for Mordelia…..” he trails off, then looks at me in horror. “I tried to bite you,” he says.

“You were asleep,” I say.

“That’s never happened before,” he says, looking at me with a kind of pleading look in his eye. “I’ve never…… while I’m asleep….” he runs a finger over his fangs, which are still out, and I watch as they recede slowly into his mouth. He’s shivering uncontrollably now.

“Baz,” I say. I move toward him again. I’m a bit freaked out myself, by what just happened, but he looks so pale and miserable, sitting there shivering, that I just want to comfort him.

“No,” he says sharply.

“You’re cold,” I say. “Let me hold you.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he says. “I’m not safe.”

“You didn’t mean to,” I say.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

“I love you,” I say.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He grabs a blanket from the bed, wraps himself in it and lies down on the floor. We lay there, him on the floor, me in his bed, and neither of us sleeps, as the room gradually lightens toward morning.

*******

I must have drifted off because I startle awake as Baz walks into the room and slams the door shut. His hair is wet and slicked back and he’s wearing this dark navy blue dressing gown that makes him look like something out of a magazine. He throws me a fluffy white towel and a terry cloth bathrobe.

“Shower,” he says. “Dress. They want to talk to you.”

“Baz, I…”

“Later ,” he cuts me off, and he gives me a cold look. He hasn’t looked at me like that in so long I’d almost forgotten that he could. I’d almost forgotten he could make me feel like the most pathetic loser in the world, just with his eyes.

I take my time in the shower. I’m not looking forward to facing Baz’s parents. My arse is still sticky, from sex, and I let the hot water run over my backside for a long time. The soap in the shower is the same stuff Baz uses at school, bergamot and cedar. The smell of it makes me want to weep.

********

**Baz**

Cutting Simon out is easy, after all. I’ve had years of practice. I just go back to this place in my head, that’s been there as long as I can remember, practically. I don’t have to think at all.

********

**Simon**

We gather in their posh kitchen, with the inset lighting and the marble countertops and the big floor to ceiling windows that look out over the fields and hills. There’s an icy rain sleeting down, melting the snow into puddles. Daphne serves us coffee, toast and eggs. Fiona is there. She glowers at me and I glower right back. Baz’s dad and his friend, the old bloke who drew his wand on me last night, are sitting at the end of a long wooden table, looking hung over. Turns out, the other guy is Mr. Grimm’s cousin, and Dev’s dad.

Mr. Grimm seems subdued, He’s cold to me, but without the open hostility he showed me last night. I guess he’s decided to work with me. Daphne must have won that fight.

I tell them what the centaurs told me, part of it, emphasizing the bit where we have to work together to get Mordelia back, about including Ebb and her mum and the halal man. Not their usual crowd, but they listen respectfully enough. Communications from centaurs are rare. Like they said, they try to stay out of the affairs of humans. When they speak to us, we have to take them seriously.

It’s pretty clear what we have to do, and it doesn’t take long to come up with a plan. The main thing is that I get back to school for tonight. That I’m there when the messenger comes, and that I can outsmart him (or her) and figure out where the Mage is hiding. In the meantime, I want to get into London. It’s time to talk to my friend, the halal man. I need to talk to Ebb as well, see if she and her mother will help us. Baz’s dad is going to talk to Niall’s father and a few other people he feels he can trust. I’m supposed to come back here, once I’m done with the Mage’s messenger, and we’ll figure out what to do next.

“What about me?” says Baz.

“Come back to school with me,” I say at once.

He gives me another one of those withering looks. I hate those.

“I mean it,” I say. “I have no idea what’s coming at me. Who knows what kind of riddle this messenger is going to throw at me. I have no idea if I’m going to be able to figure it out on my own. I need you with me.” I don’t want to say _You’re cleverer than me,_ but that’s what I’m thinking.

He glares at me with those cold, grey eyes. I stare right back at him. If he thinks he can out glare me for one minute he is sadly mistaken. At last he looks away.

“Fine,” he says, and turns to his father. “Can we take a car?”

“Take the jaguar,” says his father, looking at us thoughtfully. He gets up and walks over to where the keys are hanging on hooks by the door, and picks out a set.

“Mr. Grimm?” I say. He looks over at me coldly.

“My friend, Penelope Bunce, and her parents. We should ask them to join us as well. Penny has been working with us all along, and her mother is a powerful magician.”

“We are not allied with the Bunces.” he says.

“I know, sir. That’s why I’m asking. I think they would join with us, in this. The Mage just killed their son. The Coven hasn’t provided them with any answers, either. And we need all the help we can get.”

“I agree,” says Daphne, stepping forward.

Mr. Grimm looks at her for a long moment. “Mitali Bunce?” he says at last.

“It’s our daughter,” Daphne says. “We have to get her back.”

“Fine,” he says. He hands Baz the keys and walks out of the room.

*********

**Baz**

The drive to London is long and filled with tense silence. Simon is hunkered down in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the cold driving rain. The car stinks of sulphur.

I park in Mayfair near the halal stand and Simon gets out.

“I’ll wait here,” I say.

“Really?” he says, looking at me, like he can’t believe I’m being this much of an arse.

“He’s _your_ friend,” I say.

“Come with me,” he says. “Please?”

“I’m good here,” I say, and turn on the radio.

He slams the door and stalks off, Niall’s black cloak whirling around him in the icy rain.

********

  
**Simon**

By the time I get to the halal stand I’m so upset I don’t even want to talk. The halal man smiles at me kindly.

“My friend," he says, and presses my hands between his, warmly. “How are you?”

I shrug. I know I stink of smoke. I don’t even care.

“Let me make you something,” he says. “The specialty of the house.”

He hands me a cup of mint tea, and busies himself at his grill.

I drink the hot, sweet, tea. It’s so good, it brings tears to my eyes. It fills me, warms me, comforts me, and I realize now that there must be magic in it. I drink the whole cup, and I feel much better.

“Falafel” he announces, handing me a steaming plate. He squeezes a generous amount of the tzatziki sauce over it. “In my country, everyone eats this. Like hamburger.”

He watches with satisfaction while I eat.

“It’s very good,” I say. It is. I’ve never had anything quite like it. “How is your son?”

He frowns, sadly. “I went to visit him last week,” he says. “He is behaving well. Soon they will release him from jail. Then perhaps he will have learned his lesson.”

“What’s he going to do?” I ask.

He frowns again. “I can’t afford to send him to school, like you and your friends. I am hoping , maybe he will help me with my business. Perhaps we could open a second stand.” He looks out into the street, where the rain is falling steadily. “He is a musician,” he adds. “He wants to play music. But there is no money in that.”

“Baz plays violin,” I say.

“Where is he?” he asks.

“We’re fighting,” I say. “He’s sitting in the car.”

“Young love is hard,” he says. “Especially, perhaps, for one such as him.”

I look at him. I guess he knows, somehow, that Baz is a vampire. He seems to know a lot. “He had a dream,” I say. “His fangs popped, and he tried to bite me in his sleep. Now, he won’t go near me. Won’t look at me, even.”

He looks at me, and all the sadness in the world is in his eyes.

“Thank you for helping us,” I say.

“You are most welcome,” he replies.

“You saved our lives.”

“You have a great task to do. I am happy to help you any way I can. It is for the good of us all.”

“I need your help again.”

“It is yours for the asking.”

“The centaurs came to me,” I say. “They warned me not to try to fight the Mage on my own. They said you would help me, if I asked.”

“Indeed, I will,” he replies.

“There are others with us,” I say. “My friends, their parents, my friend Ebb - the one who was injured, and her mother.”

“That is good,” he says. He reaches under the counter and hands me a small mirror. It is the size of a large coin. The back is inlaid with a beautiful mosaic, blue and green swirls on a white background. He holds the mirror in his palm and taps it with his wand. He hands it to me.

“Turn it over 3 times, and call my name, when you need me. I will be there, when the time comes to fight.”

“I…..I don’t know your name,” I say.

“That is because I have not told it to you, yet,” he says with a smile. “It is Amoun.”

“Amoun,” I repeat, saying the name aloud, tasting it. “I….I’m Simon.”

“I know,” he says. “Simon Snow, the Chosen One, the Mage’s Heir. You know, in my land, to share one’s name, one’s true name, is a sign of great trust.”

“Is Amoun your true name?” I ask.

“Indeed,” he says with a smile.

“I am so very grateful,” I say.

“I am glad to help you,” he says.

“Where is your land?” I ask. I have been wondering this for a while.

“It is Egypt,” he says.

“Baz’s family is from Egypt,” I say. “His mother.”

“Natasha Pitch. I know. She is a distant cousin to me.”

“You’re Baz’s cousin?” I ask.

He nods. “Distant,” he says.

“That’s very strange,” I say

He looks at me a long minute. “Tell your boyfriend that love is not easily found, and, once found, should not be scorned.”

“I’ll tell him,” I say. “But it won’t make a difference. He’s scared to hurt me. I don’t think I’ll change his mind.”

“Give him time, “ he says. “He is young and tender but his heart is true.”

“I don’t like fighting,” I say.

“Perhaps there is a way,” he says thoughtfully, taking my empty plate and cup. “Keep the mirror close to you. Call me when you need me. May peace go with you.”

*********

We get back to school around tea time. The rain has been relentless all afternoon, the snow is melting in the fields and woods around us, wet white patches in a dull brown landscape. The sky is purple and lowering in an early dusk. Baz drives silently, his eyes straight ahead, white hands gripping the wheel. His face is unreadable. He parks the jaguar outside the school gates, then turns to me. His expression is cold and distant.

“I’m going to hunt,” he says. I see how pale he is, the little line between his eyes that forms when he’s tense. “Gather the others in the nursery. We should have a strategy meeting as soon as we can. We’ve got to figure out how to handle this messenger, whenever they show up.”

“Baz….I….”

“Stop,” he says.

“Does it have to be this way?”

“Yes.”

I grab his hand, put the back of it to my lips and kiss it. It’s ice cold. He snatches it away angrily.

“Look, Simon,” he says. “I love you. You know that. I’ve made no secret of it. But I’ve been thinking about it all day, and this is the way it has to be. I’m not safe. I never will be safe. I’ve just been deluding myself because…. well because I wanted it so much. Wanted you so much. But we’ve been playing a dangerous game. I can’t take the chance, and you shouldn’t either. I’ve been pretending to myself that I’m human, that I can have what an ordinary human can have. Love, sex, touch. But I’m not. I’m not human, and it’s stupid to go on pretending otherwise.”

“You’re human,” I say. My voice is tight.

“It’s touching that you think so, but it just isn’t true. And if we go on pretending that it is, you’re going to get hurt. Sooner or later. And I couldn’t live with that.”

“ _I_ could.”

“There’s more,” he says, holding up a hand. “This battle that’s coming, well, you know what I have to do. I’ve told you.”

“You have to kill the Mage.”

“Right. And I can’t let anything get in the way of that.”

“We’re on the same side.”

“Only up to a point.”

“I don’t see that.

 “Don’t you?” he asks, and his eyes are very cold.

“No, I don’t,” I say stubbornly. “We both want to stop the Mage. We both want to get Mordelia back.”

“Can you pledge, right now, to do everything you can to kill him, and avenge my mother’s death?”

I stare at him. But the truth is I can’t. I’m only going to kill the Mage if I have to.

“I thought as much,” he says, his voice icy. “I have to hunt now.”

“You said we’d be a family, you and me,” I say, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “You just said that last night.”

“I know I did. But I was mistaken. I’m never going to have a family. I’m a vampire. I’m sorry Simon, but that’s just the way it is. The undead don’t get to have a happy ending.”

“What do you get?”

“We do what we have to do. Then we burn.”

He’s out the door. It slams and he’s gone into the wet gloomy woods, leaving me fuming in the passenger seat of his stupid jaguar.

*********

**Baz**

If I can only forget that the last 3 months ever happened.

**********

**Simon**

It’s like the last three months never even happened.

********

**Baz**

Forget his mouth bending toward me, the feel of his skin against mine, his cock, pressing into me, his face clenched in pleasure, his ragged cry as he comes. His bronze curls resting against my chest. The smoky taste of his sweat. His blue eyes boring into mine.

It’s a lot to forget.

**********

**Simon**

What’s wrong with me that everyone who’s supposed to love me just let’s me down?


	5. The Messenger

**Baz**

By the time I’m done hunting and make my way up to the nursery the others have gathered. And honestly, I feel so heartbroken I can’t really focus on what is going on, even though this is important. Everything turns on tonight. If we handle it right, we’ll find out where they’re hiding, we can go get Mordelia back. If we fuck it up, who knows when we’ll get another chance.

Simon’s hunkered down on one of the futons in a proper glower. You can practically see the cloud of smoke around his head, and the whole room stinks. It’s got to be obvious to everyone that we’re on the outs, but that really is the last thing I have energy to worry about.

When it comes time to decide who’s going with Simon to meet the messenger, whoever that might be, he chooses Penny and Niall. Well I guess that makes sense, given the state of things between us, but I don’t like it. I want to be there, helping decipher whatever clues there are. And if the situation deteriorates, it’s better if we can work together. Which he knows perfectly well. He’s being a baby about it all. Just because I broke it off with him, doesn’t mean we don’t still need to work together.

The three of them go back to our room as the most likely place to wait for the messenger, leaving Dev, Agatha and me in the nursery. I fling myself down on the futon where Simon was sitting and breath in the smoky scent of him like some kind of consolation prize.

Dev and Agatha are sitting across from me, holding hands, staring at me like I’m some pathetic creature that just got dragged in off the street.

“Baz,” says Dev at last.

“What the fuck?” says Agatha.

“We broke up,” I say.

“Duh,” says Agatha.

“Why?” says Dev.

“You were so happy,” says Agatha.

“Yeah,” says Dev. “At the Winter Ball he was grinning from ear to ear about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.

The silence hangs in the room. I lay there and breath in Simon. Maybe if I just close my eyes they'll leave me alone.

“Baz,” says Agatha.

Nope.

“What?” I say with as much hostility as I can muster.

“We said we’d be friends, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Well, Baz, the way it works is, friends usually tell each other if something makes them sad or unhappy.”

And then, stupidly, before I even realize it’s happening, I’m crying. And it’s not just a few tears, oh no, it’s big juvenile sobs that shake my shoulders and leave me gasping for air. A big gob of snot comes running out of my nose. It’s completely embarrassing. Thank Merlin they don’t try to touch me, or comfort me, they just stand by respectfully while my tears run their course. While the howling empty chasm that is the loss of Simon reverberates through my soul.

At last Dev hands me a handkerchief and I blow my nose. “Sorry,” I say, feeling ridiculously, stupidly, human.

“What happened?” asks Agatha.

So I tell them. I don’t know why. Sharing my feelings is not something that I do, normally, but I do it anyway. I’m beyond caring what anybody thinks.

“It was a dream,” I say. “I was dreaming about the Mage, I…...I ….was fighting him and I woke up, and……..and my fangs were popped, and…... I had Simon……..”

“Did you bite him?” asks Agatha, looking at me with a steady gaze. Not horrified or repulsed, as I would have expected. More like, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.

“No,” I say. “But I was about to.”

“But you didn’t want to,” she says.

“That’s the awful part. The worst part……..of the whole thing.” I don’t want to start crying again. “I….I haven’t even told him this. For a split second…... I did. I…… I smelled his blood, and I wanted it.”

The room is very quiet. I hear the moon rabbit rustling overhead. He gives a very faint sigh, like he’s dreaming. They are both looking at me, steadily sympathetically, but what can you say to something like that?

“I think you’re brave,” says Agatha at last. “Fighting that ...urge every day.”

“Yeah, well it sucks. And I didn’t do such a great job of fighting it last night.”

“You’re brave,” Agatha says decisively. “And maybe there’s a solution. Maybe you can still be a couple and not…...you know, sleep in the same bed.”

“Like my Uncle Reg and Aunt Sally,” puts in Dev, unhelpfully.

“You’ve been sleeping in the same room since you were eleven,” Agatha points out, “And nothing like this has ever happened before. Maybe it’s just a fluke.”

“Maybe,” I say glumly.

“Let’s go,” says Agatha, getting out her wand and pulling on her fluffy white cloak.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to lurk in the bushes under your window. We’re going to wait for the messenger. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“Just in case they need us.”

********

**Simon**

Penny, Niall and I wait up in my room. No one feels much like talking. Niall never says that much anyway. Penny is quiet. She misses Micah, who went back to Chicago this morning. I’m mired in my own sadness over Baz, which feels way too raw to talk about. I just can’t understand how everything fell apart so quickly.

Penny keeps giving me concerned looks and I’m sure if Niall weren’t here right now we’d be having a serious talk about it all.

I’m really kind of grateful that Niall is here right now.

So we sit, and we wait. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore and get out my sword and start practicing. Penny opens her bag and starts studying her Spellkasting textbook. Niall just paces from the window to Baz’s desk and back.

In the end, I stretch out on top of my bed, dozing, and I’m half asleep when I hear the ping at the window. A rock, hitting the glass.

I’m up, and at the window. It’s a goblin. He leers up at me. I recognize him. The bowler hat guy.

“Hello Chosen One,” he sneers. “Where’s your boyfriend?” How come every evil creature in the British Isles seems to know about me and Baz?

“What do you want?” I ask. My magic is glimmering on my skin. I reach for my sword and it’s there, blue white light shimmering into the rain soaked yard below. I hear Penny gasp behind me, sense Niall straightening his spine. I look back and they both have their wands out, covering me.

“We want you, Chosen One,” he replies. “What else would we want?”

“Who wants me?” I ask. “Who sent you?”

“Daddy wants you, little boy. He sent me for you, special like.”

“Fuck him,” I say, all the pain and frustration I’ve ever felt ringing out across the empty courtyard.

“We have what you want chosen one,” he taunts. “Your boyfriend’s little sister. She’s in danger. Very bad danger. Your daddy, he’s mad. He wants you with him. And when he gets mad, he gets a little crazy. Someone could get hurt.” He laughs, a wild, hysterical giggle that echoes against the stones of Mummer’s Hall and reverberates across the courtyard.

“He’s goading you,” Penny whispers. “Don’t react. Keep him talking.”

‘Where is she?” I ask. Penny’s right, I’ve got to keep him talking, though what I want to do is cut his fucking head off. My sword is vibrating in my hand, hot, alive. It knows an enemy when it sees one, and it knows what to do with them. “Where do you want to take me?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out, Chosen One,” he says with a sneer.

“I won’t go anywhere if I don’t know where I’m going.”

“I’m not to tell you, Chosen One,” he says. “You’re to come with me. If you want the girl back alive. Nico said.”

“Nico?” I say, startled. “Nicodemus? Is he the one who sent you?” Could Nico be working for the Mage? Fuck.

The goblin just grins.

“You’ve got to give me something,” I try. I’m getting a bit desperate. I haven’t gotten anything out of this bloke at all. “Some clue where you’re taking me. Someplace my friends can come to look for me.”

“Nope,” he says. “Can’t do that, Chosen One. You’re just going to have to come along. And can’t none of your nasty friends go with you, neither.”

Suddenly, there’s movement down below. A tall figure in a hooded cloak darts out from behind a tree. I see the goblin reach for his dagger. The tall figure grabs the goblin by an arm. I see a flash of silver, and whoever it is stabs the goblin right between the ribs. He crumples, into a heap, his dark blood spreads out in a stain on the wet ground. The tall figure pushes back its hood, looks up at me and I’m staring into Ebb’s pale face.

“It was a trap, Simon,” she says to me “He was up to no good!”

There’s a flash of light from the bushes under my window and Baz leaps out. His fangs are popped and he grabs Ebb by the hair, his wand at her throat.

“Idiot woman!” he shouts. “You stupid goatherd! We knew it was a trap! We were after information! And now it’s too late!”

I watch the scene below unfold in horror. Baz has Ebb by the neck. He’s going to bite her and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. My magic is thick in my throat, pouring off me, but I don’t know how to direct it.

 _ **“Baz! Stop!**_ ” I shout, and it comes out a spell. He looks up at me. He’s frozen by my magic, can’t move at all. “Get me down there!” I say to Penny, desperately.

 _ **“Light as a feather!**_ ” she shouts, and her ring flashes purple. She grabs my hand and we drift down from the fifth floor window, and land lightly on the wet ground as Dev and Agatha tumble out of the bushes where they’ve been hiding with Baz. A minute later Niall emerges from the stairwell, breathless, his wand pointed at Baz.

“Are you all right?” I shout to Ebb. She nods, her eyes wide. “ _ **As you were,**_ ” I say, as quiet as I can, touching Baz between the shoulder blades. He slumps against me, and for one glorious moment, lets me hold him. “Get a grip,” I whisper. I don’t say it with magic, but almost. I say it with a hint of magic. He buries his head in my shoulder and I feel him shudder and I know he’s pulling in his fangs. Thank Merlin and Morgana.

After a minute he pushes me away abruptly. He looks terrible, pale and shaky, like he might fall over. His black hair is hanging in wet strands around his face. “The plan is ruined,” he says, with anguish. “We’ll never find where Mordelia is.”

“Yeah, we will,” says Ebb.

We all look over at her. She’s standing, very erect, in the rain that is still steadily falling, and I notice how tall she is. “My Mum can do a finding charm.”

“Those are really difficult,” says Penny, doubtfully.

“Mum has her ways,” says Ebb confidently. “C’mon. She’s at the barn. We can dry off there and make a plan.” She holds out her arm and makes a high pitched keening cry. Out of the night, a black winged figure comes flying through the rain and lands on her outstretched hand. She sets him on her shoulder, though he’s nearly too big to rest there comfortably.

“Hi Johnny Depp,” I say. The gwythaint bobs its head at me in greeting.

“C’mon,” says Ebb again, striding toward the barn. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

 

**********

**Baz**

Ebb’s barn feels hot and close as we come in from the rain. There’s a smoky fire burning in an ancient looking iron stove. There’s an equally ancient woman tending a large cauldron on top of it. There’s a rich, savory odor coming from the cauldron, some kind of stew or soup, with meat and vegetables. It smells amazing. It overpowers the smell of goats that usually permeates the place. The goats are all crowding against a gate that separates them from the living quarters, bleating impatiently as we come in. Ebb throws them a few handfuls of grain from a bin by the door and they go to lap it up hungrily. The gwythaint flaps its ungainly black wings and flies from Ebb’s shoulder to a perch by the window and puts its head under its wing.

It’s probably just faking being asleep. They’re famous spies, gwythaints.

The crone - she must be Ebb’s mum, hands out bowls of the steaming stew without a word. She’s a tiny thing, with a bent back and deep black eyes. When she gets close enough to hand me a bowl of stew I smell the magic on her, densely herbal and garlicky. The smell of the stew is overpowering. Last I ate was breakfast at my parents house, and my damn fangs are popping again. Simon’s giving me a worried look. I give him as cold a glare as I can muster, considering how flustered I feel. There’s nothing to sit on, so I take my stew into a corner. I turn my head to the wall and stand there and tuck in.

It’s so good, like life itself, warming me at the core. I feel like I’ve been freezing cold ever since last night, when I ended up sleeping on the floor of my room. I gobble the chunks of meat and vegetable and drink the broth. When I’m done and look around I see all the others are doing the same. It gives me a bit of ballast. Like I’m not going to immediately curl up in a ball in a corner of this stupid barn and start crying again.

I can’t believe I lost it like that. Again. With Ebb. That’s, like, twice in twenty four hours. If Simon hadn’t stopped me, I would have bitten her.

Simon keeps looking over at me with those worried blue eyes. He looks so gorgeous in the low light of Ebb’s barn. I give him another nasty sneer, but I‘m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. Last night we were moaning and panting in each other’s arms, drinking each other in. Last night he let me shag him. Twice.

Last night he wanted me to. I get this weird tug in my lower belly, just thinking about it. It’s like a lovely shiver.

I’m never going to get to do that again.

I’ve got to keep it together. Somehow. I’ve got to concentrate. Get the information we need out of Ebb’s mother. Get Mordelia back. Kill the Mage.

Then I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago. What my mother did. I’m going to burn.

 

**Simon**

Baz is pissing me right off.

Just at the moment when we’ve got to be on our game, focussed, working together, just when everything is coming to a crisis, he’s off in a corner, sulking, giving me the evil eye. Doing his best impersonation of an arsehole.

The only thing is, I’ve got his number now. He can act like an arsehole all he wants, but I know he isn’t one.

I get it that he’s upset. I get it that he feels out of control. I feel a bit out of control myself. But his crappy attitude is just making everything worse.

I finally give up trying to catch his eye and eat my stew. Which is so good, so warming I know there must be magic in it. I eat every bit of it, suck down every drop of the broth. I go over to the metal sink in a corner, wash my bowl, then turn to Ebb’s mum.

“Thank you, Mrs. Petty,” I say. Her eyes are small and black in her wrinkled face.

“Chosen One,” she says. It’s not warm. It’s calculatedly neutral. “My daughter has asked me to help you.”

“We could use your help,” I say.

“You need to find the girl.”

“Yes.”

“I will need something of hers,” she says. “A beloved toy, a piece of clothing.”

I look over at Baz. He’s staring at us from across the room. This time he doesn’t sneer and turn away, but nods thoughtfully. “We’ll have to go back to the hunting lodge,” he says “We’ll use Betsy.”

“What’s Betsy?” I ask.

“Her doll,” he says.

“That will be best,” says Mrs. Petty.

**********

**Nicodemus**

Fucking Freddie Yellowfang!!!

I should have known he’d screw it up! Should have gone myself, obviously. Some things you just can’t trust to an underling. I should know that! I was just a bit too anxious to throw my weight around. Show the bloody goblins who’s in charge here.

The Mage is restless, losing patience with me. He wants to bring this thing home. He’s threatening to call forth the Humdrum (he’s figured out how to do that now) but I’m trying to convince him to wait. Not much good having that one around, if we don’t have Simon’s power to help control him. He’s as much of a liability as an asset in my book.

If I don’t get my hands on the Chosen One soon I’m on the outs. Problem is raw force won’t work. He’s way too powerful for that.

We’ve got to lure him, somehow. _I’ve_ got to lure him. It’s got to be me, or my standing with the Mage is shot.

I’m so close. I can’t lose everything I’ve worked for now.

*********

**Mordelia**

I don’t like any of the dolls here. I miss Betsy.

The blocks are all right. I build houses and pretend the fairies live in them. The man with the holes in his mouth brings me food and books to look at. He never shouts, but he looks as if he might, if I made him angry.

At night it’s very cold, and I’ve only the one blanket. The moon shines on the waves and I look out over them for hours.

Looking for Mum and Dad to come and rescue me. Or Baz. I can’t understand what’s taking them so long.


	6. Wraiths and Purple Flames

**Simon**

It’s a bit of a to-do, figuring out how to get everyone to Oxford. In the end Penny goes to her mum who lets us use the family van. She has it parked over by the garages that the Mage used to use as headquarters for his men.

We try to get her to come with us, but she says she’s going to stay to defend Watford, if it becomes necessary. I guess she’s not too crazy about working directly with the Grimms. She tries to get Penny to stay with her, but I think she knows her daughter too well to imagine she’s going to win that fight, and she doesn’t insist too hard.

Baz is determined to take Ebb’s mother in his car. Which means taking Ebb. Which means taking Johnny Depp, the gwythaint. Baz makes a face when he finds that out. Penny finds an old blanket hidden under a bunch of empty water bottles and crisp packets in the back of her mum’s van and Ebb spreads it out in the front seat of the jaguar and settles Johnny Depp. She and her mum get into the back of Baz’s car.

I grab Baz by the elbow as he’s getting in.

“I should go with you as well,” I say, looking at him meaningfully. He just gives me an annoyed look in return.

“No,” he says. “Why? Go away, Simon.”

“In case something happens. We may need to work together. You may need my power.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got Ebb. She’s practically a nuclear reactor. She won’t let anything happen to her mother. Or that blasted bird.”

“I’d feel better if I was with you.”

“Go with Penny and the others. I’ll see you at my parents’ house.”

I bend to kiss him and he pushes me away. “It’s over,” he says.

“No it isn’t,” I say.

“It has to be,” he says, looking at me steadily. And for the first time, I start to think he really means it, that this isn’t just some stupid funk I’m going to have to wait out.

“How come you get to decide?” I say.

“Because I’m the one who’s being practical!”

"It’s not fair!”

“It’s not fair? Really Snow? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Call me Simon!”

“Listen Snow, you just think that you can get your way by saying it loud enough or often enough, because you’re Simon Snow and you always get your way. But it doesn’t work like that with me!”

“Call me Simon, dammit!”

“How about Chosen One? Do you prefer Chosen One?” he says, and I see the cruel glint in his eye. "Or how about Mage's Heir? How does Mage's Heir sound?"

“Fuck you, Baz!” I say, suddenly furious. I turn and start stomping away.

I only get a couple of feet when I sense a dark object in the sky above me. For a moment I think Baz is actually cursing me, but then he shouts “Look out!” and grabs my arm to pull me down. I feel a sudden chill, coming from above. There’s something up, there, like a bird, but massive, and darker than the dark night.

“Crowley!” says Baz and he grips my arm more tightly. Johnny Depp is beating his beak and wings against the glass window of the car, trying to get out.

The dark object is gone as suddenly as it came. We straighten and watch it fly away into the night. Baz lets go of my arm and brushes himself off.

“You all right?” he murmurs. He won’t look at me.

“Yeah,” I say “You?”

“Fine,” he says. “Corking.”

“What was that thing?”

“A wraith,” he replies, looking at the sky where the black object disappeared.

“What was…..it…...doing here?”

“Spying, I expect,” he says grimly. “I guess now they know what we’re up to.”

“Fuck.”

“Indeed. Not too subtle, are they?”

“Now can I ride with you?”

“No,” he says, “Go with Penny.” And before I can even argue he gets in the car and drives away with a squeal of tires on the wet shiny road.

***********

**Baz**

It’s a long drive to Oxford. There’s zero conversation in the car which is fine with me. I don’t have much to say to Ebb and her mother. And I don’t really like talking around that stupid gwythaint. I know it’s listening to everything we say. I turn on the radio and drive, too fast, on the wet empty roads.

I pull into the circle in front of the hunting lodge to the crunch of gravel. Every light in the house is blazing. The drive is crowded with cars. The families must be gathering The rain has finally stopped and the snow is gone. The front door opens and Bryony is standing in the entrance, backlit by the warm light from within, which falls in a yellow wedge across the wet ground. She’s wearing a white nightdress. She comes running down the stairs in bare feet. When she gets to me I pick her up. She’s almost too big to hold comfortably, but not quite and I settle her on my hip.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” I ask, breathing in the sweet little girl smell of her. Daphne uses some kind of flowery shampoo on their hair and right now it’s the most comforting thing I’ve ever smelled.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says. “Mum said I could wait up for you.”

“Where’s Martina?”

“In bed,” she says. “Where’s the Chosen One?”

“He’s coming in another car. And don’t call him that. His name is Simon.”

“Who’s that?” she asks pointing at Ebb who’s bending at the passenger side of the car, getting out the gwythaint.

“That’s Ebb and Johnny Depp,” I say. “He’ll have to stay in the garage,” I add, pointing to a low stone building at the side of the drive. Ebb nods and starts striding toward the garage without a word.

I set Bryony down and open the car door for Ebb’s mum. I give her an arm to help her as she struggles out of the tight space.

“This is Mrs. Petty,” I say to Bryony. She stares at the old woman with wide eyes. “She’s going to help us find Mordelia. This is my sister, Bryony.”

Mrs. Petty looks into Bryony’s eyes a long moment, and Bryony, bless her, lifts her chin and looks right back at her.

“Hello, my dear,” says Mrs. Petty, every bit the witch in every children’s story ever told.

“Hello, Mrs. Petty,” says Bryony, looking at her steadily. Brave girl!

 Mrs. Petty doesn’t let go of my arm, but leans on it as we walk toward the front steps. Bryony is clinging tightly to my other hand. Just as we’re about to ascend into the lighted house we hear a tremendous squawk and Johnny Depp takes to the air from Ebb’s shoulder, where she’s trying to get him to go into the garage. In full flight I see how large he’s grown, as big as a large eagle. Bigger. He hurtles to the sky above us and there’s an unearthly shriek, high and long and filled with pain. It goes right through me and twists my gut. It’s followed by another shriek, and then a third. A single black feather drifts to the ground and I look up to see the shapes of three wraiths, scudding toward the dark horizon. Bryony holds my hand even tighter, and I feel her shudder.

When we get to the top of the steps I kneel and put my hands on Bryony’s shoulders. “Where’s Betsy?” I ask.

“She’s on Mordelia’s bed,” she answers, her eyes wide. “She’s waiting. For her to come home.”

“Run and fetch her for me, love,” I say. “She’s going to help us find Mordelia.”

***********

**Simon**

When we get to Baz’s house it looks like a party is going on. The circular drive in front of the house is filled with cars and the every window in the house is blazing with light. If the wraiths want to spy on us they won’t have a hard time figuring out where we are. The lit up house is the brightest thing around for miles.

Vera greets us at the front door. ”Mr Snow,” she says formally. She’s a lot warmer to Dev and Niall, who I guess she’s known since they were little boys. She takes our coats and cloaks and ushers us into the huge sitting room thing, where a fire is blazing in the massive fireplace, lighting the room with flickering light.

I don’t know most of the people. Baz is there, sitting next to his parents with one of his little sisters in his lap. She’s holding a largish doll and looking very serious. She’s one of the twins. I can’t remember her name. I see Ebb and her Mum, sitting together, looking out of place, and Penny’s dad who looks as uncomfortable as I feel. Fiona's standing in a corner, glowering at me. There’s a bunch of adults I don’t know. The families.

Baz’s dad stands up. “The Chosen One,“ he says, looking at me.

I am really getting sick of people addressing me like that.

“My name is Simon,” I say sharply, ”Simon Snow. And I’m here to help, same as the rest of you.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Baz looking at me. For a minute, I think he might crack a smile.

“You swear to support us in our cause?” Baz’s dad asks, staring at me beadily.

“I swear to help you get Mordelia back and stop the Mage,” I say.

“On what do you swear it, boy?” he asks me.

“I swear it on my life and on the name of my mother, Lucy Salisbury,” I say. There is a surprised murmur through the room. Good.

Baz’s dad crosses the room to me. “I will take your oath,” he says. ”Give me your wand hand.” He clasps my hand. He is looking at me steadily, his hostility barely veiled. “I pledge myself to your cause,” I say. He taps both our hands with his wand. I feel his magic course through me. I taste a taste like leather and whiskey in the back of my throat. _**“A man’s word is his bond**_ ,” he says and he releases me.

He makes everyone who came with me swear an oath, one after the other and then we find places to sit on the floor and we can begin.

In the middle of the circle is a large metal brazier filled with wood. Daphne touches the wood with her wand. It blazes instantly into flame.

The lights go down, all at once, and the only light in the room comes from the two fires, the one in the stone fireplace against the wall, and the one in the brazier in the middle of the room. Mrs Petty stands up, from where she’s been sitting on the floor next to Ebb, and moves toward the fire in the center of the room. She’s a short woman, squat, her wiry hair glinting silver in the firelight, her eyes deep and shining black, like insects.

She touches the flames with her wand and they turn purple. She closes her eyes, and sways. She starts chanting in a deep voice, strange words in another language that sound ancient to me, and send shivers up my spine. The flames shift from purple to blue, to green and back to purple. Penny, sitting beside me, takes my hand and squeezes it. The magic is thick in the air. It smells of green herbs, and spring earth, and the sharp smell of garlic when it’s freshly cut. Mrs. Petty chants on and on, the words lilting in a sing song, the magic filling my nose, my mind. It’s different than my magic, which is usually what’s filling the room, overpowering everything else. This magic is as strong as mine, and older. It pulls me in, fills me up, until I forget everything, my fight with Baz, the dangerous task we are about to embark on, the fact that I still have no idea what I’m doing. It fills my mind and there’s no room left for hurt or fear or loneliness.

At last the chanting stops, but the magic is still all around us. I’m still holding Penny’s hand. In that magickal atmosphere, I sense her love and loyalty, burning like a steady flame beside me. I feel Baz’s eyes on me and I look across the room, over the dark head of his little sister. He meets my gaze. His grey eyes are filled with so much love and so much pain.

“ _Whatever happens,_ ” I think, “ _I will never abandon you,_ ” and I can only hope that he can read the message in my eyes. In that moment, dense with magick, I kind of think that he can.

“The object,” Mrs. Petty says, now hoarsely. “I need the object.”

Baz whispers in his little sister’s ear and she stands. She walks hesitantly toward the old woman, and hands her the doll. Mrs. Petty takes it, holds it to her face, and inhales deeply, closing her eyes. The room is completely silent. The flames crackle purple. The magick is shimmering all around us.

It takes a long time, so long I start to wonder if maybe it isn’t working, or maybe Mrs. Petty has fallen asleep but at last she opens her eyes.

“I see her,” she says hoarsely. “She is in a room by the sea.”

“Is she all right?” asks Daphne at once, standing.

“She is whole,” says Mrs Petty, her eyes distant. “She is frightened and cold but she is unhurt.”

“Can you take her to us?” says Daphne, and she can’t keep the desperation out of her voice.

“Yes, madame, I can,"  says Mrs. Petty. “We should leave at first light.”

She hands the doll back to the little girl who is still standing by the fire. The child clutches the doll and runs to Daphne, who catches her up in a tight hug. The purple flames go out all at once, and the brazier is cold. Mrs. Petty walks over to where Ebb is sitting on the floor, sits down beside her, and is instantly asleep with her head on her daughter’s shoulder.

*******

**Baz**

Of course I can’t sleep.

Simon is hunkered down by the fireplace in the great room with the others. My bed is cold and my heart is colder and all I feel is loss and pain and dread. Dread about tomorrow. Loss and pain over Simon. I can’t believe it was only last night that we were in this room together. It feels like a million years ago.

I’m lying on my belly after lying on my back after lying on my side when I hear the door click open and shut and Simon is in the room. I smell the smoke on him at once, and of course, I’m instantly hard, my cock a steel rod, pressing into the soft mattress. For one second I think I should have realized that he would try this and I should have locked the door, then I’m admitting to myself that I knew he would try this and that’s why I didn’t lock the door and then Simon lies down on top of me and I’m not thinking anything at all.

“Baz,” he whispers, kissing the back of my neck.

“No,” I whisper back. His warmth is all around me now, melting my resistance.

“Baz, please,”

“Simon. Get off!” His smoke is in my nostrils, the back of my throat.

“Baz, I need you.”

How do you say no when your entire body is screaming yes?

“Baz, I know you want to.”

It’s complete Simon overload and it’s short circuiting my brain. His cock is pressing into my back and he’s kissing the back of my neck insistently now, biting it, pushing the side of his head, against mine, trying to get to my mouth. He manages to get my head turned around and my mouth on his and I’m kissing him back. The relief of having his arms around me again is so great it’s cancelling out every good intention I ever had.

“All right,” I gasp. “But it’s only a shag.”

“Fine,” he says, rolling me over and undoing my pyjama top, kissing my neck, my chest, my nipples, ravenously.

“You can’t sleep in here,” I say.

“Fine," he says again, sliding his hands inside the waistband of my pyjamas and pulling them down. “Where’s the lotion?”

“On the dresser.”

He’s back in a moment and he’s struggling out of his trousers impatiently and pushing up his t-shirt. He pushes me onto my belly again and he’s slicking my arse with the lotion. When I reach back to rub some on him he pushes my hand away and in another second he’s on his knees, pushing into me, hard and rough.

I brace myself and let him take me. At first it’s almost too much. Simon’s gasping and panting and driving further and further into me, deeper than ever before and I’m not sure I can stand it. Then something changes. He finds a different angle and it’s easier. He grabs my cock in his fist and then it’s good, really good, the best ever, his cock feels so good inside me, his arm around my chest, his mouth biting the back of my neck, the rhythm building hard and fast, until the goodness of it fills me up completely and I’m coming, into his hand.

He keeps going. He’s fucking me with an insistent mechanical rhythm that’s not letting up at all. It doesn’t feel that great anymore and I start to wonder when he’s ever going to come. I try pushing against him, squeezing him a little, encouraging him, but he just keeps on going. It’s actually starting to hurt a little now, and I’m just bearing it, waiting for him to come, until finally he pulls me closer. When he shouts my name it comes out a sob. I feel him coming inside me at last  and he falls against me, still and spent.

I feel terrible. I should never have let him….. I should never have said yes. Now I just don’t know what to do.

After a long time he rolls off me with a groan, and starts trying to kiss me, but I turn my head away, and then we’re just lying there side by side. Not speaking. Not kissing. Not holding each other. There’s a soggy puddle of cum in the sheets between us that feels sticky and cold.

I’m weak. I’m stupid. I’m never going to do what I have to do if I let him break me down like this.

“Baz,”

“Shut up.”

“Baz.”

“I said shut up…. Snow.”

He sits up and runs his hair through his curls. I look at the mole on the side of his neck, then look away, feeling guilty.

I think this is the worst I’ve ever felt in my whole life.

He lets out a long frustrated breath, making his nostrils flare, his upper lip puff out a bit. It’s dead sexy, and I have to look away again. Crowley.

“You just don’t get it,” he says, staring at the wall. The light in the room is starting to brighten toward day.

I don’t say anything. I don’t have anything to say. I look at him again. Is it bad to just look? It’s bad for my will power, that’s for sure.

I don’t say anything because I’m afraid if I say anything at all I’m just going to start crying.

“I’m the chosen one,” he says, into the quiet room. “They’ve been telling me since I was eleven. You have this great destiny, Simon. You have to defeat the Humdrum. You have to save magick.”

His Adam’s apple is working and he looks like he might cry, himself. Instead he gets up and angrily starts pulling on his trousers. He’s still wearing his t-shirt. It shines white in the low light.

“But nobody can tell me how,” he says, straightening up and doing up his flies. “Not one person. Not the Mage. Not the centaurs. Not the halal man. No one. All they can say is _follow your heart, Simon_. I’m so sick of hearing that. _Your heart is true, Simon. Listen to your heart._ ”

I’m looking at him now. I can’t stop myself. He looks so beautiful. I just want to look and look, while I still can.

“Here’s the thing, Baz,” he says. “This is bigger than us. It’s bigger than me or you, whether we live or die, whether I get turned, whether you avenge your mother’s death, even whether we get Mordelia out alive. What happens to us doesn’t even matter. The fate of magick is going to be decided by this, and everyone keeps telling me it’s up to me.”

He turns his head now and looks right at me. His eyes are bright and shiny with unspilt tears. “And I have no bloody idea what I’m doing Baz. No clue. Everyone keeps telling me I have to do this, this is my destiny, but no one can tell me how.”

My arms ache to hold him.

He crosses the room in three quick strides. At the door he turns and looks at me again. “And how the fuck am I supposed to follow my heart,” he asks, “when it’s broken in two?”

And he’s gone, shutting the door firmly behind him.


	7. Dirigible

**Simon**

  
People are gathering in the back of the hunting lodge in the chilly morning light. Out by where the door to the sauna is. I try not to think about that, about what Baz and I were doing in there, just a couple of nights ago.

There’s some kind of plan afoot but no one’s bothered to tell me what it is. The adults are all milling around like they’re waiting for a train, dressed to travel in coats and cloaks, hats and scarves, sensible shoes. The women all have large purses or small valises. Some of the men have knapsacks. They’re looking up at the sky periodically, as if they’re expecting to see something there.

I go over to where Penny and Niall are standing, looking cold. When I ask them if they know what’s going on they just shrug. Ebb strides over with Johnny Depp on her shoulder to join us. No sign of Dev or Agatha. Or Baz.

It’s a clear morning. Everything’s soaking wet from the rain the night before, and the snow is all gone. The sky is a deep, cloudless blue. The sun is just coming up over the hills and I see a dark object flying away from us, in the distance. It could be a bird, but it could also be a wraith. Johnny Depp has his beady eye on it, his head cocked to one side.

I hear a whirring, mechanical sound behind me and turn to the west. At first it’s just a silver speck in the sky, glinting brightly in the rays of the rising sun. It comes closer and closer, until a huge silver dirigible is hovering above us, shining in the early morning sun like a giant silver bubble.

A hatch slides open. A thin silvery ladder unfurls in the clear, cold morning air. Out of the hatch appears…. Amoun. My friend, from the halal stand. He descends the ladder nimbly, followed by a woman wearing a long skirt and a head scarf. At the bottom of the ladder he jumps down and gives her a hand. They stand on either side of the ladder. Amoun holds his wand to his mouth and speaks into it.

“Friends” he says, his voice magickally magnified. “There is, as you know, a great evil arisen in the south. Your Mage has harnessed an ancient power, and he plans to use it to a nefarious end. He has gathered a group of desperate allies, with little to lose. He has promised them much, and they are in liege to him. Vampires. Goblins. Wraiths. Humans who have remained loyal to him, though he has shown his true nature as a man of greedy and selfish ambition. In addition, he has loosed on the world a force of tremendous power and darkness, a force that has the ability to destroy all of magick. You know it as the Insidious Humdrum. In other lands it goes by other names, but it is a great and ancient evil, and it is a threat to us all.

“Your Mage has captured an innocent, the daughter of Malcolm and Daphne Grimm. It is our hope and our duty to rescue this child, defeat the Mage, and suppress the evil power he has unleashed on the world. Your Coven is stymied, unsure how to proceed, but time is short. The child’s life is in grave danger, and the fate of magick hangs in the balance.

“Fatima, my lovely wife is an aeronaut of great skill and experience, from a family of aeronauts which goes back many generations in our country. Her airship is at your service. She is your captain, and I turn to her for directions concerning our flight.”

He hands his wand to Fatima. She accepts it with a warm smile. She is a tall and graceful woman, her eyes bright and sparkling, her face calm. She speaks in a light lilting voice, with an obvious foreign accent, but her English is crisp and clear.

“Welcome allies,” she says. ”This magical dirigible is a trusted airship that has transported countless groups of mages over the years. Please step aboard, taking care as you ascend the ladder. There are cabins available on the upper level for the adults. Those under 21 years of age will find berths in the solarium. Coffee is available in the salon. Breakfast will be at 11:00 in the dining hall. We will arrive at our destination at approximately 3 PM, if all proceeds according to plan. Please gather in the salon at 2:00 PM for a strategy meeting and to be fitted for parachutes for your descent. Have an enjoyable flight, and do take care on the ladder.”

With that, she turns and ascends up the silvery ladder. Amoun remains at the bottom, giving people a hand up. I queue with the others. Agatha and Dev come out of the house and run across the lawn, a bit breathless, to stand in line with Penny and Niall and me. No sign of Baz, and I’m starting to get worried, although why I should even care, after last night, I’m not sure.

At last he comes out the back door of the hunting lodge, one of his little sisters clinging to each hand. He’s followed by his parents, looking pale and determined, and Vera, holding the baby, who looks confused and sleepy in the early morning light. Baz bends and whispers something to each of the twins in turn, and one of them, the one who was at the ceremony last night, throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. Daphne kisses the baby. She crosses the yard quickly with Mr. Grimm and Baz, and they cut to the head of the line. Mr. Grimm takes Amoun’s hand and looks onto his eyes. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming so quickly.”

“My friend,” says Amoun. “I am happy to do it.”

Baz and his parents get onto the ladder and ascend into the dirigible. Baz looks pale. I wonder if he got a chance to hunt this morning. Although I guess that’s not really my problem anymore.

Ebb and her mum are right ahead of us in the queue. Amoun greets Mrs. Petty by kissing both her cheeks

“Juliet,” he says. “Old companion, well met. You are our guide. You will sit in the front with Fatima, yes?” Her black eyes sparkle at him and her wizened face breaks into a smile. It’s the first time I have seen her smile. She then looks uncertainly at the ladder. Amoun takes out his wand, murmurs a spell I cannot hear and Mrs. Petty (Juliet? Really?) wafts gently into the air beside the silvery ladder and into the hatch.

When it comes my turn Amoun takes both my hands and looks me over critically.

“Simon,” he says looking into my eyes.

“Hello,” I say. I’d better not say his secret name aloud. “Nice airship.”

“It is my wife’s,” he replies, with pride. “We welcome you. Find a berth upstairs and rest. You and I will talk once we are underway.”

I haul myself onto the silvery ladder and start climbing into the clear morning air. It's a long way up. I’m not exactly afraid of heights, but the ladder seem awfully thin, and there’s a breeze blowing from the east, causing it to twist and sway. Penny is right below me and I hear her breath catch when a puff of wind twists the ladder sharply to one side. Penny’s brave, but she likes heights less than I do. The hum of the dirigilble’s engines gets louder as we ascend.

We make it safely to the top, though, and into the dark hatch. Inside it’s like we’re on the Titanic or something. Not a great analogy, I guess, under the circumstances, but that’s what it reminds me of. It’s like a ship, with walls that curve gently inward, and portholes letting in some light. There’s rich oriental carpets on the floor, and dark wood panels, wall sconces giving off a flickery light and a big glass chandelier above us. There’s a gleaming dark wood bar along one wall, the bottles and glasses glinting with reflected light. There’s a big silver urn of coffee on the bar that the adults are all milling around. Penny tugs at my sleeve and we walk toward a curvy narrow opening, into a dining room, set up for breakfast with heavy china and white cloths on the tables. It’s brighter in here, the windows are larger. We walk through this to a third room which is all glass. It’s dazzling in the morning sunshine. There are more oriental rugs on the floor, and big green plants with shiny leaves. There's wicker furniture set in groups for people to sit on and chat, I guess. There’s a piano in one corner and bunk beds in tiers of four, eight of them all together, set against the back wall.

Penny and I claim the two top bunks. They’re right next to each other so we can lie face to face and talk. Not that I really feel like talking.

“All right, Simon?” she asks in a low voice.

“No,” I say.

“You and Baz didn’t make it up last night, then?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“ s'all right,” I say. Though of course it isn’t.

“You seem pretty miserable,” she says.

I shrug. I just want to go to sleep right now. Penny sighs and rolls over, hands behind her head and looks up at the ceiling, which is only a couple of feet above us. In a few minutes, I hear her breathing get slow and regular. She’s asleep.

I hear a loud clunk that sounds like the hatch closing. The engines shift and hum. I look out the large windows around us, and see that we are starting to move. Niall, Dev and Agatha come in, and I put a finger to my lips, pointing to Penny. They quietly settle into the bunk beds below us. No sign of Baz, though he’s under twenty one and belongs in this strange bunkhouse with us. I guess he’s kipping in his parent’s cabin.

I just want to get a few hours of sleep. Between the midnight meeting and bad sex with Baz, I didn’t really sleep at all. But I find myself tossing and turning in my bunk, worrying about the battle to come. I start thinking about Baz saying good bye to his little sisters. I never really knew he liked them. He always mostly complained about them.

I remember when all of them were born. Daphne was pregnant with Mordelia our first year. I remember her with her big belly, helping Baz move into our room, and you could tell he just wanted her to get the hell out of there. He was embarrassed and I was embarrassed for him. When we were eleven, a pregnant woman was embarrassing by definition, and even more so if she was your stepmother. I remember thinking, at the time, that maybe it wasn’t so bad to have no parents after all.

Mordelia was born right before our first Christmas holiday. It was my first Christmas with the Wellbeloves, and by far the best Christmas I had ever had, but Baz came back from that holiday in a foul mood. Of course, we never talked about it, our enmity was all ready firmly established, but from offhand comments he made I got the picture that he was not happy about having a new little sister.

Each time Daphne announced she was pregnant, or after a new baby was born, Baz would be in a particularly bad mood. Which seemed perfectly logical to me, at the time. And though we never talked, he always let me know, somehow, what was going on.

It’s weird, looking back on it. Even though we were always fighting, I always knew what was bugging him, what was making him sad. I used to use it against him. It drove him mad. Even though he did everything he could to make me feel small, sometimes I was the one who could really goad him into losing it. I used to study him, for stuff I could use against him. For chinks in his armor.

I roll over and sigh. I can’t see going back to that. We’re not children anymore, after all. I can’t really see sharing a room again either, if we even get through this. If we both survive. Maybe Dev and Niall will let me sleep on their floor until graduation. It’s only a couple more months.

I feel bad about last night. I thought I could fix it, with sex, but I guess I was wrong. I guess I have bigger problems than Baz right now, but I feel so empty and sad inside that none of it even seems to matter.

I toss, I turn. The airship hums on. The brilliant morning sun is pouring through the windows. I pull a blanket over my head and for a few hours, I sleep.

**********

**Baz**

Towards the front of the airship, right next to the control room, there’s a narrow winding stairway. I climb up and find that it leads to a small observation deck. It’s chilly up here, but it’s shaded from the bright sunshine, and sheltered from the cold breeze that’s blowing. I wrap up in my cloak and lay down on my belly on the hard wooden deck. I stick my head out between the slats of the railing and look out over the surrounding countryside.

It’s a late winter landscape, gray and brown, no hint of green in the trees. The snow has been washed away by the recent rainstorm, leaving everything muddy and sodden. The fields are a pearly pale gold, interspersed with a rich brown that glows in the bright sunshine. The trees are grey sticks mixed with the dark green of firs and hemlocks. The little farmhouses and villages below look like quaint toys out of a children’s playset.

I must have been up there for about an hour, watching the landscape go by, listening to the soothing hum of the engines. Trying not to think. Thinking about everything. Feeling bad about everything. I hear someone on the spiral staircase and Agatha emerges from the hatch and plops down next to me with her back against the railing and her legs outstretched. The dirigible banks and turns. A shaft of sunshine falls across Agatha, making her hair glow gold.

“Ahh,” she says, stretching into the sunshine. “That feels good.”

I pull my head in from between the railings and sit up next to her, shifting further into the shade. I don’t think I could bear direct sunlight right now. We’re sitting side by side, our backs against the wooden railing, our legs sticking out in front of us, me in the shadow, her in the light.

“Where’s Dev?” I ask.

“Sleeping.”

“You should be sleeping, too,“ I say.

“I did. I’m up now. I have something for you.” She reaches into her pocket and hands me a blue plastic case with plastic sparkles embedded in it. I open it up and find...... another blue plastic thing. With plastic sparkles.

I stare at it. “What is this?” I ask, looking down at the object in my hand.

“It’s a mouth guard,” she says. “It’s mine, from when I wore braces. I washed it really well. Try it.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Maybe this will solve your problem,” she says. “Maybe your fangs won’t pop when you wear it. Or maybe if they do, it would get in their way enough that you’d wake up before you … you know…. bit anyone.”

“I forgot you wore braces.”

Agatha shudders slightly. “Third year. It was a low point. Try it on.”

“It’s really girly, for a mouth guard.”

She grins at me. “I’m kind of a girly girl,” she says. “Girly isn’t contagious. Just try it.”

I put the blue plastic tray in my mouth and mold it to my upper teeth. It covers them snugly. I’m sure I look ridiculous. “How do I look?” I ask. My voice is all lispy and muffled.

Agatha laughs. “Silly,” she admits. “But no one has to see you. Except Simon, I guess. Do you think it will work?”

I take the mouth guard out and put it back in it’s case. I snap the lid shut and hold it in my outstretched palm. A slight glimmer of hope is starting in my chest, but I don’t want to get too excited. Could the solution really be this easy? Could the howling loss inside me really be fixed by a simple dental appliance?

“Erm…….maybe,” I say, putting the blue plastic case away in my pocket and pushing my hair back off my forehead. “I…. thanks, Agatha. How are things with Dev?”

“Good,” she says. “I…...I like him. Has he…… said anything?”

“Said anything?”

“About me?”

I shake my head. “He hasn’t really had the chance. We’ve kind of been in crisis mode, since the dance. It’s kind of obvious how he feels about you, though.”

“He’s….nice,” she says. “It’s really different, than with Simon. Simon could never really relax, you know?”

I shrug. I guess I’ve kind of seen a different side of Simon.

“You two shagging yet?” I ask.

She blushes pink. It’s very pretty. “No,” she says. “But maybe soon.”

“I have condoms if you need them.”

“Thanks,” she says.

A whistle blows downstairs.

“Breakfast,” I say. “Then we get ready for the battle.”

“Shit,” says Agatha. And the two of us descend down the spiral staircase, past the control room and into the dining hall.


	8. Dreamcatcher

**Simon**

After breakfast I wander forward in the airship and look into the control room. There’s a bunch of round glass dials on a big polished wooden dashboard, whirring around, a lot of buttons, and a big round captain’s wheel, like you’d see on a sailing ship. I watch it for a few moments. It’s making tiny little adjustments, all by itself.

Amoun’s wife, Fatima, is sitting in a large leather captain’s chair with Ebb’s Mum beside her. They’re both staring intently out the window. There’s a dense cloud of magic around them that I can sense, rather than see. The air smells of garlic and green herbs. Amoun is standing at a chart table, studying a map, but he looks up when he sees me standing at the door, smiles and gestures for me to come over.

He hands me a large magnifying glass and I study the chart below. Without the glass it looks like an ordinary map. Through the glass I can see the landscape in exquisite, breathing detail. If I lower the glass closer to the map I can focus in on anything I want. I focus in on a village. There’s cars and lorries driving around, kids in a play park. I focus on a cow outside the village, in a meadow, chewing its cud. It’s like Google Earth, except everything is more detailed and happening in real time.

“Where are we going?” I ask Amoun.

He points to a spot on the far edge of the map, by the ocean. When I look through the glass I see a lonely hotel, pale, washed out pink, up on a bluff, looking out to sea. He peers through the glass with me and points to a window on the third floor.

“That’s where they are keeping the child,” he says.

“Mordelia? How do you know?”

He looks over to where Mrs. Petty is sitting beside his wife and nods. Mrs. Petty is staring out the window of the control room, her eyes focussed ahead of her, her hand gripping Fatima’s arm. I guess somehow she is communicating with her and directing her where to go.

“What’s the plan, anyway?” I ask.

“We’re going to parachute down to the woods outside the property and move in quickly, before they have a chance to rally against us. We’re going to split into two groups. One group will attack the front of the building, by the road.” He lowers the glass so it hovers over the hotel, and I see the narrow tree lined drive leading to the front. “A second group is going to go around by the seaward side and try to get the child out.”

“Won’t they see us coming?” I ask. I look closer through the glass and see the tents lined up in rows on the front lawn of the hotel. Goblins milling about. “It looks like they’re getting ready for us.”

“Well, yes,” says Amoun. “Their spies saw you gathering at the Grimm’s last night. But the dirigible is magically concealed. They won’t be able to see us as we approach. Hopefully that will give us an edge.” Amoun takes the glass from me and peers nervously at the lawn of the hotel. I’m not afraid of goblins but there are an awful lot of them.

“Look,” I say quietly. Through the glass I see him. The Mage. David fucking Weir. My dad. He’s wearing a long flowing green cape, a brown tunic thing and boots to the knees. His usual stupid Robin Hood get up. He’s wandering among the goblins, talking first to one group, then the other. By his side is a figure in a black nylon jacket and Doc Martens. Nicodemus!

“I want to be on the seaward side,” I say. “I want to be part of the rescue party.”

He nods at me thoughtfully. “We’ll be gathering in the salon in a few minutes for a final strategy meeting. We’ll break up into groups then.”

We stand together and watch our enemies preparing for our arrival through the magnifying glass.

“I have something for you,” Amoun says, laying down the glass. He reaches into his coat pocket and takes out a small leather packet, tied with twine. Curious, I open it.

It’s one of those dream catcher things. They were a fad at Watford a few years back, quite a few people had them in their rooms. I’ve never seen one like this, though. It’s beautiful. The circle is made of twigs twisted together, the web is woven from a silvery thread that shimmers as I move it back and forth in the light. There's a leather loop for hanging it, and a clear crystal set right in the center. I feel the magic pulsing in it as I hold it in my hand.

“A dream catcher,” I say.

“It is not from my tradition,” he says. “But it comes from a powerful shaman. I had to search quite a while to find this one. It carries a potent charm.”

“To stop bad dreams,” I say.

“Yes,” he says, smiling at me.

“Baz’s bad dreams.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it will work?”

He nods. “I don’t think it will stop all bad dreams,” he says. “But it should stop the most dangerous ones.”

I look up at him. My chest feels tight. I don’t know why this stranger has come to care about me so much. I look down at the map, which, without the magical magnifying glass, is just a map.

“Show it to Baz,” he says. “Perhaps you will find a way to reconcile.”

“Thank you,” I say. “You are very kind to me.”

“I believe you deserve some happiness,” he says. “When all this is over.”

A gong sounds loudly, reverberating through the small room.

“The strategy meeting," says Amoun. “Put that away safely. It was not easy to obtain. And God be with you in the coming fight.”

 

**********

  
I’m sitting at the bar next to Amoun as people file in for the meeting. I have no clear idea what the strategy is going to be, or if it’s going to work. What I’ve heard so far sounds pretty lame to me.

Baz strides in, pale, his head held high. He looks nervous but determined, like he’s steeling himself for what lies ahead (we all are). He comes right over and sits on the barstool beside me.

“Snow,” he murmurs, not looking at me.

I really can’t believe him sometimes. “Use my bloody name, dammit,” I hiss at him. “Or I’m not talking to you.”

He huffs out his breath. “Crowley!” he says “Fine. Simon.”

“What is it?”

He looks over at me, uncertainly, then looks away quickly. “Our truce,” he says.

“What about it?”

“It still stands.”

“Yeah,” I say warily. Does he really mean it? “All right.”

“We’ll work together, if we have to.”

“Okay,” I agree. I don’t know where this is coming from, but I’m relieved. “I……. Baz……..we’re……..on the same side.”

“Allies, then,” he says, and he takes my hand and gives it a quick squeeze.

“Yes.”

“Simon….. I …….I have something to tell you.” He’s still not looking at me. “When all this is over.”

“I have something to tell you, too,” I say.

But his Dad is calling the meeting to order. “Silence,” he says, looking over at the two of us, like a stern schoolmistress. Fuck.

I think about the dream catcher tucked deep in my pocket and I think maybe, somehow, we’ll find our way back to each other.

I sit on my bar stool between Baz and Amoun and listen as Malcolm Grimm lays out the plan. We’re going to parachute down and engage with the Mage’s forces, the goblins and whatever else he has. Wraiths. Vampires probably. Mr. Grimm names the advance guard. It’s going to be Ebb, himself and a bunch of old blokes I don’t know. Those under 21 are going to be in the rear guard. A small group including Daphne, Amoun and Fiona are going to sneak around to the seaward side of the hotel and try to get Mordelia out.

The more I hear the more uncomfortable I feel. Their plan just seems bad to me. I know the centaurs told me to work with Malcolm Grimm and his allies. But I just don’t think it’s going to work. I feel my magic, rising to my skin. I can’t help it. I know what I have to do suddenly. I feel my wings pulsing under my shoulders, the magic eager to leap out. I feel pressure in my tailbone. I take a deep breath and hold it all in. I swallow my magic back down. For now.

They hand out short swords and shields from a huge iron chest that looks like it came out of some dead king’s tomb. When they try to hand me mine I put my hand on my thigh, recite the incantation and the Sword of the Mages is in my hand, glowing with it’s blue white light.

There’s a collective gasp, an awed silence. Good.

I think it’s time to take things into my own hands. “I’m going to be part of the rescue party,” I announce, in as firm a voice as I can manage. “Me and Baz and Penny.” I’m nervous, but now that it’s starting to happen, I’m not that nervous. I let my magic come. I feel it pouring over my skin, that delicious tingle, like nothing else. My wings and tail can’t be held back anymore. I feel that almost unbearable pressure, familiar to me by now, and then my wings are unfurling, my tail is shooting out, and everyone is just staring at me, speechless. Johnny Depp, sitting on Ebb’s shoulder, let’s out a harsh squawk and nods his head at me. I catch his eye and nod back. I hear a snort of laughter beside me and Baz is just grinning at me, his grey eyes warm with amusement.

I don’t quite get it, but something has changed between us. The arsehole act is gone. Maybe it’s just the prospect of going into battle that’s changed Baz’s attitude, but he’s not acting like an enormous twat anymore. He’s not giving me that that cold sneer. Whatever it is, I’ll take it. I feel suddenly, stupidly, happy. My heart is swelling in my chest and I can’t seem to stop it. Okay heart, we’re on. I’m not afraid anymore. I want to fight. It’s time to save the world. If Baz is on my side, I almost believe I can do it.

I stand there radiating magick as they start handing out the parachutes and sending the advance guard out the hatch of the dirigible. Ebb gives me a grin and a thumb’s up before she jumps out, Johnny Depp soaring into the air beside her. When Baz’s turn comes, his dad hands him his parachute, then holds him by the shoulders and looks in his eyes a long moment. Mr. Grimm plants a kiss on his his son’s forehead, and Baz jumps out of the hatch. I watch Baz plummet, see his parachute unfurl. Penny is right behind him.

I push to the front of the line. No one tries to stop me. In a moment I’m out the hatch, my wings catch and I’m soaring in the clear spring sky. I give a flap and feel my muscles engaging against the air. My tail is out behind me, giving me balance. It feels great to fly. There are white parachutes floating all around me. I swoop and dive, keeping Penny and Baz close to me as they descend.

The sun is shining, but there’s a line of clouds moving in from the sea. To the east the sky is dark and stormy, the clouds looking steely grey in the bright sunshine. There’s a chill wind blowing. My sword is in my hand, shimmering white hot. I take a deep breath of the clear, cold spring air. I breath out and a puff of smoke comes out of my mouth and drifts away on the wind.

I’m ready for the battle.


	9. The Battle of the Pink Hotel

**Simon**

  
Below us the battle is already joined. I hear shouts, spells, curses. I see streams of fire shooting from wands. The Mage’s forces are pouring out the gate and down the long narrow drive. Baz, directly below me, shoots a flame from his wand as he descends. He misses one of the goblins narrowly, but a purple flame, shooting out from under Penny’s parachute, finds its mark. The goblin gives a horrible scream as he catches fire. I pull out my wand and start aiming fire at the army pouring down the road.

The first of the advance guard have landed and they’re already fighting the goblins, swords and daggers glinting in the sunlight filtering through the trees. The next minute a group of wraiths flies up from the roof of the hotel. One dives for Penny and I flap my wings furiously to get to her but Johnny Depp is there ahead of me, slashing at the wraith with his beak and talons until the black creature gives an unearthly shriek and goes scudding away.

Baz gets two wraiths in a row with fire from his wand, and I get a third. We’re getting close to the ground now. Some of the Mage’s men have joined the fight. There’s more of them than there used to be. He must have been recruiting. They’ve got wands and they start shooting flames and curses at us as we descend. One of the flames catches Baz’ parachute and it bursts into fire. I dive for him and catch him before he hits the ground.

He’s in my arms and the sky is full of fire The battle below is heating up. We look into each other’s eyes and, for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. Then we both look away.

“All right?" I breathe as I come gently to earth and set him down.

“Yeah,” he says, and without missing a beat he pulls out his sword and stabs the goblin that’s coming up behind us right in the throat. The goblin falls backward with a scream as a great arch of blood spurts from his neck. A second later Penny lands beside us. Her sword is already out.

They keep coming at us. There's two more goblins. Penny gets one and I get the other. Then there's a vampire, snarling his way toward us and Baz, fangs popped, shoots a bright orange flame at him. He goes up instantly. There’s nothing left behind but ash.

“Come on,” I shout, seeing an opening through the trees where no one is coming to attack us. “Let’s go get Mordelia!“ We’re supposed to be part of a larger group, but it’s complete chaos on the ground, screams, flames, smoke. I nearly trip over a dead goblin lying face down in the dirt. I hear the sound of the sea, waves crashing, off to my left and head toward it. Baz and Penny come scrambling behind me. The woods descend to a narrow shingle beach, closed in by a cliff. At the top of the cliff sits the big old fashioned hotel, painted pink. The same one I saw through the enchanted magnifying glass.

“Mordelia’s up there,” I say pointing. “Third floor. One of the windows on the left.”

“How do you know?” breathes Penny.

“The halal man showed me,” I say. “He had an enchanted map.”

“Get down,” shouts Baz and pulls us back into the cover of the trees as two wraiths dive bomb us. The cold chill of them goes right through me and their frustrated screams echo through the forest.

From behind the trees we look up at the hotel. The wraiths are circling the sky, guarding the third floor where Mordelia is being held prisoner. They are going to be a big problem. I don’t know how we’re going to get past them.

Then, with a scream of fury, Johnny Depp is there, talons out, beak slashing. It seems like he rips the first wraith right in half. It falls through the sky with a terrible shriek and splashes into the sea, where the waves are pounding the rocks below the cliff. The other wraiths are all trying to bring the gwythaint down but he dives and and pulls back, lashing with his talons and his beak, beating his wings like a furious black tornado. The wraiths are no match for him. Another one falls from the sky, it’s shrieks echoing crazily over the rocks.

I see my chance. “Cover me,” I shout to Baz and Penny and I take off, wings flapping, across the narrow beach toward the hotel. The waves are crashing, the salt spray is in my face, and I’m flying up the cliff, past sharp jagged spikes of rock until I’m at the peeling pink facade of the hotel. First floor, second floor, third floor. Out of the corner of my eye I see an orange flame shoot past and one of the wraiths screams and falls to the sea. One of Penny’s purple flames misses it’s mark and hits a corner of the hotel where it starts smoldering.

There’s a cold mist rolling in off the ocean now, making it hard to see in the windows. I peer through the first one. Looks like a dusty storeroom. The second one’s a bathroom. The third one looks like a child’s room out of a creepy horror movie. There’s a lump under a blanket. Score! I beat my wings against the glass and it shatters.

“Mordelia?” I say, gently as I can, trying not to scare her. I’m breathing hard, my wings flapping against the window frame.

Two dark eyes peer out from under the ratty blanket.

“Remember me?” I say. “I’m Baz’s friend, Simon.”

“The Chosen One?” she squeaks out.

“Yes,” I say. “That's right. Baz sent me to rescue you. He’s down below, on the beach. Will you come with me?”

She slides out from the tattered blanket and approaches me cautiously. I hold out my hand, as if she were a shy animal.

“Come on, Mordelia,” I say, as coaxingly as I can. This room is damn depressing. It’s dusty and dirty and the walls are stained. All the toys look like they’re about a hundred years old. There’s a creepy line up of china faced dolls on the dresser. Their eyes stare at me glassily. “We haven’t much time. We’d best hurry.”

“You have wings,” she says, and she walks over and touches one gingerly with her hand.

“Yeah,” I grin. “Come on, you can climb up on my back if you like.”

“Hang on, Simon,” says a cold male voice . A voice I know well. The Mage. Of fucking course!

He’s standing there in the doorway, Nico beside him. The same as ever. Brown tunic. Robin Hood Cloak. Tall knee length boots. His pointy beard. Long brown hair that curls a bit around his face (kind of like mine, I realize with a sinking heart.) Intense blue eyes. Too intense. Crazy intense. Focussed on me.

Mordelia moves next to me, and I put an arm arm around her skinny shoulders.

“Hello, Dad,” I say, meeting his eye. I still can’t believe bloody Nicodemus is in cahoots with him, but he’s standing beside him, the picture of a minion. Like he’d be pleased to carry his sceptre. Taste his food. Wipe his arse.

“Simon,” he says, looking at me. My power is rolling off me, stinking up the room, and I can tell it’s making him excited. He wants to get his hands on it, control it. He still thinks of it as his. “My son. It’s not too late. We can still rule. Together. You and I.”

“No thank you,” I say.

“With my skills and your power, we could rule all of magick,” he says. He’s getting that dreamy far away look. I know that look well. I’ve seen it come over his face ever since I was eleven, when he used to talk to me about my great, bloody destiny.

I’m so mad, I’m not sure I can contain it. I don’t want to go off, but I don’t think I can hold it back much longer. The emotions are rolling off of me and with them, the magic. It’s filling the room, like smoke, so dense you can practically see it.

“Simon, stop wasting your magic and join with me. Together we can do great things. Forge new powers that have never been seen before. We can conquer space, time, death itself.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I say. “Bye.”

I grab Mordelia under the arms and start climbing out the broken window.

“ _ **Not so fast, Simon**_ ,” he says and it comes out a spell. It hits me in the back and knocks me to the ground, with Mordelia still in my arms. She gasps and stiffens but doesn’t cry out. She’s a tough little kid.

His spell could stop me but it can’t hold me. I get up and face him, still holding Mordelia.

“Let Mordelia go,” I say. “She’s just a little kid. Baz and Penny are on the beach below us. They can take her to safety.”

He stares at me. I hear the ping of a cell phone and Nico reaches into his pocket and checks the screen.

“Actually, they’re not there anymore,” says Nico, with a nasty smile. A moment later a group of goblins pound up the stairs. They’ve got Penny and Baz, and they throw them to the floor with a sickening thwack. They look the worse for wear. Baz is covered in mud and his shirt is ripped. His fangs are popped, his eyes are blazing and he looks ready to kill. Penny’s bleeding from a gash in her head. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Mordelia wriggles out of my arms and runs to Baz, in spite of the fangs. He grabs her and holds her tightly. One of the Goblins hands a wand to the Mage without a word. Baz’s wand. I wonder if Penny still has her ring. If I could get close enough to Baz to work our magick together we’d have a chance of getting out of here. My wand is in my pocket. Maybe he could use that.

“Simon,” says the Mage, (aka Dad), fingering Baz’s wand thoughtfully. He knows he has me. He knows I won’t leave as long as he has my friends. He starts pacing around the room slowly, in the narrow space between the window, where I’m standing, and the doorway, where Baz, Mordelia and Penny are sprawled on the floor, surrounded by the goblin guard. I count them. There are six. Not bad odds if Penny still has her ring. Better than the time they attacked us in Paddington Station.

The cold mist from the ocean is curling in the broken window.

“I’m getting impatient,” says the Mage.

“You twisted fucking bastard,” I say, letting the hot fury I feel for him pour out in my words. “Do you really think for one minute I would work with you? Side with you? Help you in your evil little schemes? After what you did to me? Abandoned me? Kept me from knowing who my family was. My bloody uncle. My bloody, goddamn, grandmother.” I think of that moment, in the magickal registry, seeing his name next to mine, knowing it was true. “You left me to rot in all those crappy children’s homes. I was the loneliest little kid on earth. I didn’t even know when my fucking birthday was!”

He meets my gaze, and if he feels an ounce of regret he doesn’t show it. “That was to toughen you up, Simon. That was to make you strong! A warrior!”

“What kind of parent does that?” I spit.

“I did what I had to do!” he says.

“You never fucking loved me!”

“Love was beside the point! I was working for a greater goal!”

“Well I’m not helping you get there!”

”Oh Simon,” he says, and his blue eyes are very cold, like ice. “I think you’re wrong about that.” He points his wand at me and a blue vapor is coming out of it “ _ **Sleep tight**_ ,” he says, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “ _ **Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”**_

I try not to breath in, but the spell hits me all at once. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a sleepiness, so profound I can’t hold my head up. I look over at the others and see it’s affecting them as well. Penny’s eyes are all ready closed and the last thing I can remember before passing out is Baz’s eyes, struggling to stay open, as he looks right at me, helplessly.

*************

**Nicodemus**

I’ve got what I need, now. What we need.

I’ve got the Chosen One tucked away in the basement. I’ve got the ingredients for the potion. Unicorn blood. Dragon’s scale. Heliotrope. Mandrake. Bones of a virgin. That one cost us a pretty penny, I can tell you. I wanted to use the child’s bones, but the Mage says she’s worth more to us alive than dead.

Of course, I can’t do the actual brewing, I haven’t the magick for it. All that went when they snapped me wand. But the Mage knows how. He’ll do the magick. I’ll do the stirring. And then, it’s just a few drops. And the Chosen One’s power will merge with the Humdrum’s. Then, we’ll be unstoppable.

And then the Coven can eat my shit.


	10. In the Dark

**Baz**

I wake on a cold cement floor to someone patting my hand and calling my name. It’s Mordelia. I open my eyes and it makes no difference. The darkness is complete. I can smell blood, though. Bunce’s probably. I hear her stir and moan across what sounds like a fairly large space. Crowley, what a disaster.

Where’s Simon?

Mordelia’s still patting my hand and I sit up with a groan and pull her towards me. I don’t think I’m really hurt, just banged up, and everything aches. My fangs want to pop with the smell of the blood but I manage to keep it together, thank Merlin. Mordelia is shivering in my lap.

“You all right?” I whisper to her.

“Yes,” she whispers back.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Who?”

“The Mage. Nico. Anyone.”

“I only ever saw the man with the holes in his mouth. He was scary. And I was cold. I’m still cold, Baz.”

I chafe her arms and try to warm her by pulling her close to me, but of course, I’m a cold blooded bastard and not much good for that. She smells different, the usual floral soap scent I associate with my sisters is replaced by a more basic smell of unwashed little girl. She buries her head in my shoulder and starts crying. I hear Bunce moan across the room again.

Where. The fuck. Is Simon?

“All right, Bunce?” I say, hoping it’s true. She moans again. Shit. She must’ve taken a bad hit to the head.

“Baz?” says Simon’s voice, thank Merlin, from another corner of the room or dungeon or whatever we’re in. Basement probably.

“Here,” I say. I hear him get up with a moan and then stumble across the floor toward the sound of my voice. My eyes are adjusting to the dark and I see the outline of his wings, then his tail whipping around, feeling for me.

“Where are you?” I hear him whisper.

“Here,” I say again and he grabs my shoulder and finds my mouth and kisses me, once. And I let him. Weakly. But I’m so relieved he’s okay I don’t even care.

“Mordelia’s right here,” I say. “Go check on Penny. She’s not really responding.”

“Simon?” I hear her say. Simon starts stumbling toward her.

“Here,” I say, shoving Mordelia at him. “Warm up Mordelia” He’s radiating heat as usual. “I can see Penny better than you.”

I approach Penny. She moans and half sits up.

“Bunce,” I say. “You doing okay?”

“Baz,” she says weakly.

The smell of blood is stronger close to her, and fresh, and then, damn, my fangs do pop but I just ignore them. No one can see anyway, it’s so dark.

I pull off my ripped shirt and wrap it around her bleeding head as well as I can, tying it up tightly to try to stop the bleeding.

“Ow,” she says as I work.

“It’s for your own good,” I tell her. “There. Feeling all right?”

“A bit wobbly,” she says, “Where are we?”

“The basement of the hotel, I think,” I tell her. “Simon and Mordelia are right over there.”

“Hey Penny,” comes Simon’s voice out of the dark. “You okay?”

“I think so,” she says. “You?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“I’m okay, too,” pipes up Mordelia.

“Of course you are,” I say. “Penny, do you still have your ring?”

“Yes,” she says. “They must not have realized it was magic.”

“Simon, do you have your wand?” I hear him feeling around.

“Nope,” he says. “I can still call my sword, though”

“We’ve just the ring,then,” I say. “And the sword. And Simon.”

“Unchanneled Simon,” says Penny.

“Better than nothing,” I say.

“Thanks,” says Simon.

“What’s going to happen, Baz?” comes Mordelia’s voice, small and scared.

“We’re trying to figure it out, love,” I say. I stride over and take her from Simon. My eyes are definitely adjusting to the nearly pitch dark. I bury my nose in her hair and breath in the little girl smell of her. It’s strangely comforting, and my fangs pull back. She’s not shivering any more. Simon puts an arm around me and I smell his smoke. His warmth envelopes me.

Simon.

“Do you think we could blast out of here?” I ask, in a low voice.

“Probably,” he says. “Maybe you could use Penny’s ring. But then what? It’d be nice to know what we were blasting into.”

“Crowley,” I say. “What a mess.”

“I’m scared Baz,” says Mordelia.

“Don’t be,” I say. “We’ve got this far. We’re going to get out of here.”

 

***********

Penny and Mordelia are slumped on the cold cement floor, their arms around each other, dozing. I think Penny’s lost a lot of blood. She seems weak.

Simon and I feel our way around the dank, pitch black room. It’s definitely a basement. Cement floor. Rickety stairs leading to a firmly locked, heavy door. It’s nearly completely empty. Some old sacks and boxes against a wall. Nothing we can really use. There’s a few rats lurking in a corner. As no one can see anyway, I grab them and drain them, quietly as I can, slaking my thirst. For now.

“Baz, c’mere,” comes Simon’s voice, low and urgent, from under the stairs.

He’s found a stick. He grabs my hand and for a moment, his magic glows over both of us, casting the room into an eerie green light. Then the light is gone and he hands me the stick.

“Try it,” he whispers. He’s still holding my hand and I feel the magick pulsing from him to me, through my body, and out the end of the impromptu wand. I sweep it through the air and a few green sparks come out. Good, that’s something. I give his hand a squeeze back, and then his mouth is on mine, and Aleister forgive me, I’m kissing him back. The relief and the goodness of it are flooding through me, his hand snakes to the back of my neck, and he’s moving his chin against mine, like he does, and we just keep going. At last he pulls back and whispers in my ear, “I just don’t care Baz,” he says. “If you bite me, we’ll deal with it. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve told you and told you. I never have been and I never will be.”

“You’re insane,” I say.

“I’m in love with you,” he says. “I need you. I can’t face him again without you.”

And that cold heavy weight that’s been sitting in the center of my cold, cold heart just melts. I love him past all reason. I feel for the mouth guard Agatha gave me, still tucked deep in my pocket. We’ll work it out.

“Okay,” I say, and I sag against his shoulder. His wings enfold me. I’m home in his arms. Thank Merlin.

“Good,” he says. He holds me close and relaxes against me, in the soft, forgiving darkness. And in that moment, holding him, I feel our two hearts beating as one, my icy, undead one, and his fiery, dragon one. Time stands still. This is all there is. It’s eternal, beyond time. Beyond sex and fear and fighting and death. Beyond revenge. Just us. Just…..love.

A moment later his mouth nuzzles into my ear. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says.


	11. Blue Pentagrams

**Baz**

It’s almost too easy to blast our way out the door. Simon grabs my hand and the power pours through my whole body and out my home made wand like an electric charge. The door is just a smoking hole. I don’t even need to use a spell. I grab Mordelia’s hand and Simon puts his arm around Penny. She leans against him weakly and we creep up the stairs, quiet as we can. There’s no guard, thank Merlin. We’re in a dark unkempt, dusty space. The old hotel kitchen. Pots and pans and broken china scattered on the floor. A huge cold fireplace. Broken tables and chairs. Outside it’s dark. Night has fallen while we’ve been locked in the basement.

I see the door to the outside and start herding our limping group toward it. We’re almost there, when the harsh overhead light snaps on and I feel it instantly. The dry suck, the pull on my skin. I hear the bounce of a rubber ball. Mordelia gives a high terrified whimper and her arms go around my waist.

“Hello, big brother,” says a high childish voice. A voice I remember from seven years ago. Simon’s voice. Simon’s voice from when we were still little boys. The Humdrum.

We turn around as one person. There’s absolutely no resisting that pull. Once we’re facing him, there’s no moving. We’re caught in that magnetic field. It’s so strong, I feel like my guts are being wrenched out. My fangs pop again, of course. I feel Simon’s hand go to the small of my back, and I know he’s using every ounce of strength he has to do it. Mordelia’s arms are still around my waist. My hand is on the homemade wand in my pocket.

The Humdrum looks at us and laughs. He looks the same as ever, and I have the same irrational urge I always get, to kick him in the shins. Like any eleven year old boy does, when his enemy shows up. Unfortunately I can’t move. He’s eating an enormous sandwich messily, with relish. Like he’s never had anything that good. The way Simon used to eat, when he first came to school. I used to think he was so pathetic.

Bits of meat and vegetable are falling out of the sandwich onto the floor and there’s a dribble of sauce coming out of his mouth and down his chin. He wipes at it with the back of his hand, but it doesn’t do much good. He stands there and eats the whole sandwich, then wipes his hands on his grubby jeans.

“Dee - licious,” he says and leans back against the grimy counter, watching us.

“What do you want?” says Simon, with great effort. I’m not even sure how he can move his mouth to speak.

“Good question, big bro,” says the Humdrum. He’s clearly enjoying himself. “It’s not so much about what I want. It’s all up to Dad. He wants you upstairs.”

“He’s not your dad,” says Simon. “I’m not your brother. This has nothing to do with him. It’s between you and me.”

“Oh, he’s kind of my dad,” says the Humdrum, a twisted grin on his face. “He made me, just like he made you. He made you what you are, with all that crazy power. You wouldn’t have those great wings and that awesome tail without it. Still wish I could get those, like you, big bro.”

“I’m not your brother,” Simon says again.

“Same dad. That means you’re my brother. It makes sense.” And without taking his eyes away from us he pulls a gold iphone out of his pocket and presses a button. Then, he laughs again, and starts bouncing his red rubber ball.

There’s a thunder of feet on the stairs. A whole group of goblins flood into the room, green skin, yellow teeth, black tuxedos. Dressed to kill. And behind them, Gideon Petrokov, dagger in hand, fangs popped. He gives me a nasty grin. I yearn to spit at him, but I can’t move.

It’s short work for them to truss us in sticky blue ropes and carry us upstairs.They take us to an old fashioned hotel lobby. It’s grimy and decrepit like the rest of this place. Huge dirty cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Broken furniture with the stuffing coming out in grubby white tufts. A grandfather clock with the door half off and gears hanging out. A large, plate glass window, looking out to the black sea beyond, streaked with dirt. There’s a wooden counter against the wall for the guests to register at, with slots for mail behind it. The Mage and Nico are sitting up there, their feet dangling. Gideon Petrokov hops up onto the counter, on the other side of the Mage. The Humdrum stands in a corner and bounces his ball. We’re all still in his power field. None of us can move.

The goblins get right to work, as if they’ve rehearsed it all before. They take Simon and tie him down, onto a table that’s been placed in the middle of the room. They’ve got some kind of a blue potion in a small iron cauldron, and they draw a large pentagram around him with it, then a smaller one on his forehead. Shit. This does not look good. Simon’s magick is pouring off him stinking of smoke, but he doesn’t seem to be able to move, in spite of it. The Humdrum’s just gotten too strong. Penny’s beside me, her breathing sharp and terrified, and Mordelia’s still clinging to me, her arms glued around my waist.

When they come to tear her from me she let’s out a horrible scream, and I know, suddenly, what they’re going to do. The heart of an innocent. Of course! I read all about it in those evil Dark Magick books we took from the Mage’s office weeks ago. They’re going to take my little sister’s heart.

They take her and tie her to a chair at the foot of the table and I don’t even know how she’s moving against the pull of the Humdrum, but she’s thrashing about, moving her head, kicking her feet, screaming my name, over and over again, the terror she is feeling overpowering everything, until the Mage takes his wand and casts “ _ **Silence is golden**_ ,” at her and the room falls eerily quiet.

Nico, Gideon and the Mage jump off the countertop as one.

The Mage takes that blue potion and dabs a big glop of it on his forehead and then he rips off his tunic and puts another big glob on his chest. He’s sweating. His eyes are wild, his brown hair standing on end, electrified, and weirdly, I see the resemblance to Simon more than I ever have. Gideon Petrokov hands him a silver knife and he starts dancing around Mordelia and chanting. She’s staring at him with wide terrified eyes, her mouth open in a silent scream. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I’m sitting there, watching it all. I’m immobilized by the Humdrum’s power field, the blue ropes holding me tight. My fangs feel huge and more than anything I want to sink them in the neck of that maniac, that evil twisted sadist threatening the ones I love. But, Aleister forgive me, I’m helpless.

The Mage keeps chanting, keeps circling my little sister. At last, he takes the knife and with one deft movement, cuts away her shirt. Then he lightly carves a heart right on her bony, white, little girl’s chest. Not deep, just enough to cause a thin outline of blood to bead up where he made the cut. The blood looks very red on her pale, pale skin. She’s stopped trying to scream, just watches him with huge terrified eyes. Then, the Mage beckons the Humdrum over. Slowly, eyes shining, power radiating off of him, that little thug gets up on the table where Simon is helplessly tied, puts a knee on either side of him and leans into him.

***********

**Simon**

The Humdrum is over me and the force is intense. I feel the hairs on my arms pulling toward him. I feel my eyeballs pulling forward in their sockets and bugging out of my head.

“What do you want? “ I mouth at him. I can’t speak properly at all.

“You,” he answers. His cocky grin is gone. He looks uncertain. “All I ever wanted is you.”

He puts his hands on my shoulders and his power is pouring into me and then my power is pouring into him and it’s back and forth, back and forth. First I have the upper hand, then he does, then me again, then him. Somewhere in this the sticky blue ropes burn away, and now the humdrum has wings and a tail just like I do and we’re rising together, slowly, hands locked on each others shoulders, blue white light pulsing all around us. Below me, Mordelia is tied to a chair with a heart of blood carved on her chest and the Mage is looking up at us with a maniacal grin of joy, mouthing words to an incantation I can no longer hear, and Baz, my love, is watching us with his fangs popped and tears streaming down his face.

I’ve got to just keep holding on. I’ve got to keep fighting him with every ounce of strength I have. If I falter, even for a second, it will be all over. But I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on. The Humdrum closes his eyes. His face is scrunched and pale and I can tell he’s giving it everything he’s got. I close my eyes as well and I feel myself getting smaller and smaller. My power is contracting, concentrating deep inside me, collapsing into a tiny red rubber ball. Then it surges forward and suddenly I’m limitless. I’m power itself, outside my body, a force beyond time and space. Then I feel the pull of him, strong, steady, determined, darkness. It’s power of a different sort, the yang to my yin and I feel it engulfing me. He’s too strong for me. I always knew it. I’m the worst chosen one that ever was chosen and my light is getting sucked into his dark, dark vortex. I open my eyes. He looks more solid than he ever has, and there’s a look of triumph on his face. He’s going to win. I’m not strong enough. I feel all the things he really is; death and decay and despair and loneliness, and those things are filling me up with darkness. My magick is going out, and I can’t bring it back. The loneliness that is at the core of me, the loneliness of a little child who was never loved, is winning. My light is fading. I feel my strength slipping away, and I’m afraid. I look down at Baz one more time. _Follow your heart_ , they always told me.

I look into his grey eyes, blazing with a storm of love and fury.

“ _ **I love you,**_ ” I say, because I don’t want to say goodbye.


	12. Red Rubber Ball

**Baz**

They’re up in the air. Simon has his hands on the Humdrum’s shoulders, and the Humdrum has his hands on Simon’s shoulders. They’re both kind of transparent - vessels of the power that is pulsing through them. It’s like watching a light show. First Simon is dominant and the light is blue white, like his sword, and then the Humdrum gets an edge and the light takes on a darker purplish hue. I see Simon starting to falter. I can feel the wall of power coming from him weakening and I realize that the Humdrum is going to win. And the whole time I’m sitting there, unable to move or speak, the power radiating off of them like two massive magnetic fields as they tussle back and forth. Then Simon looks into my eyes and says “ _ **I love you.**_ ” Those magick words. And then everything changes.

It starts as a tingle at the tips of my fingers and all of a sudden I can move again. I open my hands and I feel the power moving up through my arms, to my center. It’s surging between us, Simon and I, moving from his heart to mine, like a circuit that’s been completed. The sticky blue ropes fall away. I pull my homemade wand out of my pocket and I’m reaching for Simon. My feet leave the ground and I’m drifting up toward the ceiling to join him. I look down and see the Mage’s face crumpled into a furious scowl. I touch Simon’s shoulder and his power rushes into me full stop, filling me completely. The magick keeps building, getting stronger until it’s nuclear, it’s infinite, like that time, that very first time, when we shared our magic and went to the stars. His blue white light is shining brighter now, glowing all around us, until I can’t even see the people below us anymore, staring with upturned faces. The Insidious Humdrum is starting to shrink in Simon’s hands. His wings fold up, his face gets more and more scrunched and red, like a baby. Simon is using his hands to mold him smaller and smaller until finally, it’s just Simon, there in the air, his wings outspread, power radiating from him like a white aura. My hand is still on his shoulder and he’s holding a red rubber ball in his hand.

We all stare at that red ball. The Insidious Humdrum, packed up and tucked away. It’s still radiating power, but it seems strangely unthreatening now. Then, with a loud pop, it disappears from Simon’s hand.

“No!” screams the Mage. He’s covered in blue potion and sweat and his face is twisted in an evil grimace. I really want to sink my fangs in his neck but I’m sort of stuck up in the air with Simon. I’m not sure what’s going to happen if I let go.

Simon looks at me and I look at Simon and then he puts his hand to his thigh and hands me his glowing sword. “Don’t bite him,” he says, and we drift gently down to the floor.

The minute my feet touch I’m after the Mage, the sword flickering blue white and hot as I swing it. It’s incredibly light and supple. I feel the power radiating off of it, and I go right for the throat but the Mage has his sword out as well. He fends off my initial onslaught and it quickly turns into a duel.

“Crowley, I hate you,” I say, as I lunge and jab. "You bloody bastard.” Everyone in the room is standing, watching us, mesmerized by the spectacle of the Sword of the Mages flashing through the air. It’s between him and me, then. Good.

“You let the vampires into Watford,” I say, thrusting my sword at him. He blocks me neatly, and jabs back, making me step backward to avoid his blade. “You’re the one responsible for my mother’s death. You're the reason I was turned. You had me kidnapped by the numpties so my mother couldn’t return to me when the veil lifted. You took my little sister, and tried to sacrifice her for her pure, innocent, heart. And all you’ve ever wanted out of my boyfriend, your own son, is to steal his power and twist it to your own ends.”

“Your boyfriend,” he snarls back, thrusting his sword at me hard. I block it with a shuddering clang of metal on metal. “You Nancy! What would your blessed mother say if she saw you now? Natasha Grimm Pitch,” he spits. “That elitist bitch! I was never good enough for her! I wonder what she’d think of you and your bloody boyfriend.”

“Your son.” I say, thrusting at him, hard. He moves aside nimbly. Damn! I almost had him!

“Yes.” He replies as I block a blow that would have beheaded me if I’d been a second slower. ”The Greatest Mage. Except now he’s turned against me!”

“Don’t you care about him at all?” My sword clangs against his and slides down and cuts his hand. I see him wince. I smell the blood. I see the fear in his eyes. Merlin, I want to bite him!

“Well, the way he’s turned out, I think it’s just as well I didn’t get too attached,” he says breathing hard. “Weak,” he says, lunging for me again. “Rebellious. A pansy. Not what I was hoping for at all.”

Now I really want to kill him.

“Baz - watch out!” yells Simon. I hear the loud report of a gun simultaneously with a sharp pain in my left shoulder as the bullet hits me. A second later Simon is hurtling into me. He throws me to the ground, away from the Mage, with himself on top of me.His wings come around us both. He’s hot as a fire and he’s still glowing with power. I look up and see Nico, with his pistol trained on us, grinning wickedly. A bloom of red is spreading over my bare, left shoulder which hurts like fuck. The Mage straightens up,sheaths his sword and wipes his brow.

And then there’s a huge thump against the dirty plate glass window which looks out to the sea. The window shatters, scattering broken glass everywhere, like bullets, and with a scream of fury, Johnny Depp is in the room.

**********

**Simon**

Johnny Depp goes straight for the Mage, knocking him down and cutting a huge gash in the side of his chest with his talons. In the window behind him comes Ebb, her staff blazing white, her eyes hard with fury.

“Neeza stay out!” Nico cries.

“Nico how could you? How could you go and side with Davy? “ she replies.

“It’s not too late, Neeza,” he says, eyes wild. “You could still join us! We can use you! With your power we can have it all!”

Ebb stands there, her blazing staff in her hand, staring at her brother, the hurt and betrayal written all over her face. The fury that was there a moment ago is replaced by confusion. She looks paralysed, as if she just doesn’t know what to do.

“Neeza,” says Nico, the sadness and desperation in Ebb’s face reflected in his own. For a moment they look like mirror images of each other. “We could be so fly!”

Then all hell breaks loose. Behind Ebb, through the broken window come Dev, Niall and Agatha, wands out, swords at the ready. At the same moment, Fiona and Amoun come pounding up the stairs. The goblins surge forth, from where they’ve been lurking, watching the Mage duel with Baz. Their short, dagger-like swords are out and ready. Nico aims the gun at us again and I grab Baz in my arms and roll him away. I feel the bullet bounce against my magic. It acts like a shield and the bullet ricochets off of me. A goblin behind me clutches his chest and falls. The magick is pouring off me but I’m not sure how to channel it. Gideon Petrokov is coming toward us, his fangs look huge, but I hear Agatha shout “ **_Stay away from my friends, you monster.”_ ** Her wand shoots white fire and Gideon goes up in flames with a shriek. At almost the same moment I hear Fiona cry out “ **_Die, You bastard,”_ ** and a green spell from her wand hits Nicodemus in the chest and he falls over and lays still.

The Mage is battling Amoun, sword to sword, and it’s an evenly matched fight.The Mage’s chest is red with blood from where Johnny Depp tore at him. Amoun is bleeding from a gash in his forehead, but he keeps going, wiping the blood occasionally from his eyes. He’s an excellent swordsman but so is the Mage.

They go round and round and the rest of us watch, mesmerized. I’m afraid to cast anything at the Mage for fear of hitting Amoun by mistake. They weave in and out of the decrepit furnishings. Their swords clash. Their breathing is fast and harsh. They’re both gleaming with sweat. At last, the Mage’s foot slips. He stumbles and Amoun has him - his knee on the Mage’s chest, his sword at his throat.

And then, David Fucking Weir looks up at Amoun and gives him a maniacal grin.“ _ **Now you see me,**_ ” he says,“ _ **Now you don’t**_.” And with a loud pop, he’s gone. He just…. Disappears. All that’s left is a puff of blue smoke.

“Crowley!” says Baz, and swallows hard. “Aleister fucking Crowley!”

And then, it’s over. With the Mage gone the goblins disappear quickly, running out the broken window and down the stairs. Niall runs to Penny and unties her and kisses her, quickly on the mouth. Baz, in spite of his gunshot wound, runs to where Mordelia is tied to the chair and gets her bonds undone with his wand and picks her up. Her thin white arms go around his neck and you can tell she’s not letting go for anything. I try to tend to his wound with Mordelia wrapped around him like an octopus, but “Don’t fuss Simon,” he says, though he looks very pale. “It’s just a flesh wound. I'm fine.” He buries his nose in Mordelia’s hair and takes a long breath in, and when he lifts his head and looks up at me his fangs are receding, pulling back into his mouth in spite of all the blood everywhere.

Mordelia lifts her head and looks at the both of us. Her eyes are dark, deep brown and they’re shining with tears. “Is it over, Baz?” she asks.

“Yes, love,” he says.

“Baz?”

“What, Mordelia?”

“I’m not that innocent.”

“Of course you’re not,” he says.

“I know that the Chosen One is your boyfriend.”

“Well, then you’re very clever,” he says, smiling at her. “But call him Simon.” And he twists his head around over Mordelia’s arms, and plants a kiss, right on my mouth.

“I won’t tell Mum and Dad,” she says.

“It’s okay, Mordelia,” he says. “They already know.”

***********

Nico is dead. Fiona is sitting by his body holding his hand and there are tears running down her face. Ebb is sitting on the opposite side of the room. Johnny Depp is beside her and she’s smoothing the feathers on his head and she won’t look at Nico’s body or at any of us.

Dev and Agatha are twined around each other and Penny is standing next to Niall, shoulders touching. Amoun is leaning against the oak reception counter. He’s covered with blood and holding a towel to the wound in his forehead. I walk over and stand beside him. 

I focus inward for a moment and feel my wings and tail receding deep inside me. (It’s nice to know they’ll be there again, if I need them.)

“How’s your head?” I ask.

“The bleeding is slowing down, I think,” Amoun says.

“Thank you,” I say. “Once again, you saved us.”

“He got away,” says Amoun, his usual soothing demeanor is replaced by bitter disappointment. “I nearly had him and he got away.”

“He’s a devious bastard,” I say. For some reason, I’m kind of relieved that the Mage didn’t die. It’s weird. I hate him, but I guess a tiny part of me also still loves him. The stupid little kid part. The Humdrum part.

“Baz is going to be upset,” I say. “He was supposed to kill the Mage to avenge his mother’s death.”

“Yes,” says Amoun. “She was my cousin. I, too, have that vendetta on my soul.”

“Distant cousin,” I say, remembering our conversation from days ago.

He smiles wryly. “Perhaps not so distant.”

“You should talk to Baz,” I say.

He shrugs. “Young Basilton remembers his mother in a certain way. He saw her through the eyes of a very small child, and he loved her deeply.”

“He won’t talk to me about her,” I say. “Not much.”

“Those memories are precious to him,” says Amoun. “It is best not to…..interfere with them.”

“He won’t give it up until the Mage is dead.”

“I know,” says Amoun. “My cousin Natasha was a very determined woman. In death as well as in life. But it is too bad that she did not have the wisdom to leave life to the living.”

“Do you think he’s gone for good?”

‘Who?”

“The Mage.”

“No, I do not,” he says. “But we gave him a good trouncing. I doubt he’ll be back to bother us very soon.”

“And the Humdrum is……. All packed up.” I say

“For now,” says Amoun.

“Yes for now,” I say. I look over at him, trying to figure out who he really is. “You are……... a very powerful magician.”

He smiles. “In some ways, yes,” he says. “But you, Simon, of all people, know that great power brings with it a great burden.”

“I did what you told me.” I say. “I followed my heart, and it worked.”

“Your heart is true, Simon,” he says. “Never doubt it. It is your greatest strength. Do you still have the mirror I gave you?”

I feel for it. It is still in my pocket, a reassuring weight. “I never had to use it,” I say.

“Keep it near you,” says Amoun. “If you ever have need of me, I will be there.”

We both hear it at the same time. The mechanical hum. The Dirigible. Johnny Depp looks up from where he’s sitting by Ebb. He squawks once and spreads his black reptilian wings. A cold breeze comes in through the broken plate glass window and a silvery rope ladder descends and dangles just outside it.

Amoun straightens up and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let us go home, my friend,” he says.


	13. In the Stars

**Baz**

Daphne and Father are waiting anxiously in the salon when I ascend the ladder into the humming, elegantly lit warmth of the dirigible. Mordelia transfers her octopus grip from me to Daphne without a word. Father claps me on the shoulder, and says “Good man!”

Simon is coming into the dirigible behind me and he and Father look at each other for a long moment. I watch them both, afraid to breath. At last Father moves forward and takes Simon’s hand. “Thank you,” he says and turns to follow Daphne up the stairs where she is carrying Mordelia to their cabin to be fawned and petted over.

Mrs. Petty shows little response when Amoun tells her, gently as he can, that her son Nicodemus is dead. “He has been dead to me for many years,” she says quietly. Her black eyes are dry.

It turns out that Mrs. Petty is a healer, and she removes the bullet from my shoulder with her wand. It hurts like hell but the pain feels centering somehow. I grip onto Simon’s arm with my good hand and curse quietly under my breath and it’s over in less than a minute. It’s odd that Nico tried to shoot me. I don’t think a bullet could have killed me, but this one definitely hurt me.

“That’ll leave a scar, that will, says Mrs. Petty as she hands me a smoking potion to drink. It’s so bitter it’s almost worse than getting the bullet removed but I swallow it down, wincing, while she wraps a bandage tightly around the wound. Then she sews up Penny’s head and we tuck her into one of the bunks in the dark solarium. She sighs when her head hits the pillow and grabs onto Simon’s hand.

“You did it,” she says sleepily, smiling at him. She’s still kind of out of it.

“We all did,” he says. “Sleep now.”

Agatha and Dev are curled up together in the bunk above her, already asleep, and Niall is settling into the one opposite her. I really want a few minutes alone with Simon and I lead him to the front of the airship where the narrow winding stairway leads to the observation deck.

********

We’ve left the sea mist behind us. The stars are bright and close in a clear moonless sky. We stand next to each other and lean against the railing, looking out at the gorgeous night, the dirigible’s engines somewhere beneath us making a reassuring hum. It’s cold out here, among the stars, but not too cold. Chilly. Spring is coming.

I feel shy. So much has happened between us, so much of it unspoken. I’m so glad just to have him standing here beside me. Not fighting. Not…...apart. I don’t want to bung it up again.

“Hey,” Simon says, and knocks his shoulder into mine.

”Hey,” I say, and I knock my shoulder against his in return. We just go back and forth like that for a few minutes until we’re both giggling from the silliness of it. Then he puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me around until we’re facing each other. I’m enfolded in his warmth. His hand reaches out to stroke my cheek and then we’re kissing.

“I’m sorry,” I say, when we pause for breath.

“What for?” he asks, leaning his forehead against mine, his curls brushing against my cheek. He's breathing hard, hard enough so it flutters my eyelids.

“Just……. Everything.

“I’m sorry, too,” he says.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Last night. I was….too rough…… and I hurt you. And it….wasn’t good….. And I’m sorry.”

I relax against him. He feels so good.

“Baz?"

“Here.”

 “Could we….. not do this again?”

“What, break up?”

“Well…. Yeah, maybe, but I was thinking about not breaking up over this particular thing. Like can we not do _‘I’m breaking up with you because I’m a vampire and I’m afraid I might bite you in my sleep_ ’? Because I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

“Okay,” I say burying my face in that warm, warm place in his neck. I kiss that mole, that particular mole, that mole that has driven me crazy since I was twelve years old and breath him in.

Simon.

“You’re human,” he says, into my hair, kissing my ear, my neck, and then back up to my face. “In case you were wondering.”

“I’m not,” I say but he’s pushing me against the railing now, his hips locking onto mine, making a very human type bulge appear in my trousers and I feel so good that I’m almost ready to believe him.

‘You _are_ human,” he insists. ‘You piss, you shit, you cry, you bleed.”

“You’ve never seen me shit,” I say.

“You shit,” he says, biting my ear lightly, in a way that’s making me feel like I can’t quite get enough air. “I know you shit. I’ve sat on the other side of the door and listened to you shit. I’ve smelled your shit. Plus you care way too much about way too many things to not be human. You’re prickly and proud...and….” biting my ear a little harder and exploring it a bit with his tongue. “You like salt and vinegar crisps. And mint aero bars. And…..you’re nice to your little sisters when you think nobody is looking and….” he rotates his hips and grabs my arse and pulls me against him, hard, “you make these lovely little gaspy breaths when you’re about to come and …..Oh!…..” he says, pulling back. “I just remembered.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bundle wrapped in leather. “Open it,” he says.

“What is it?” I unwrap it and stare at the beautiful silvery cobweb shaped object. It’s pulsing with magic.

“The halal man got it for us,” he says. “It’s a dream catcher.”

I turn it over in my hand, feel the magic in it. “To catch bad dreams,” I say.

“Yes,” he says, looking pleased.

“Do you think it will work?”

“He thinks it will.”

“Look at what Agatha gave me,” I say, remembering, and pulling it out of my pocket.

“Her mouth guard?” he asks, taking it out of the blue plastic sparkly box. “I remember when she wore this.” He looks at me and laughs. “Try it on,“ he says, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Not now,” I say, feeling suddenly irritated.

“No,“ he agrees, pulling me close and kissing me. “That might interfere with getting down to business.” His tongue is in my mouth and his smoke is in my nostrils and his cock is pushing hard against mine and the stars are shining as we fly on through the spring night air. He takes his hand and slides it, over my hip and down my front and rubs on the bulge in my trousers through the fabric and it feels amazing. Then he slips two fingers, under my belt, inside my boxers. He’s stroking me lightly, lightly and I’m squirming against him, wanting more. It’s kind of making me crazy . “Simon…...please,” I hear myself moan, the neediness, the want , opening like a huge chasm I can’t hold back anymore and then he’s on his knees. He’s getting me unzipped and his mouth is on my cock, those warm, warm lips, sucking, pulling. His tongue is twirling, licking, along the shaft. He wraps his hand around the base, squeezes, sucks hard at the head. His tongue darts out and licks lazy teasing circles and I’m undone. I grab handfuls of auburn curls and I feel the orgasm rocking my whole body as I come into his mouth.

He swallows and licks me clean and does up my clothes, and then he stands and pulls me close into his warm, warm embrace. We stand there and watch the stars go by. I’m not capable of anything other than just letting him hold me up.

“It’s weird that I like it,” he says, into the night air, after a long relaxed silence where I almost fall asleep.

“You like it?”

“I like your cock in my mouth,” he says. “I never thought I would, but I do. I like the way your crotch smells. I like the way you taste. I like it when you come.”

“I should do you,” I say, feeling guilty.

He chuckles. “Not sure you could manage, just now, mate.”

“Mmmmm” I say, nestling closer into his warmth. I feel like my bones have turned to some soft putty-like substance. “You were amazing today.”

“Liked that blow job, did you?” he says.

I would swat him but I’m too relaxed. “That’s not what I meant,” I say.

“I know what you meant,” he says, suddenly serious.

“You vanquished the Humdrum,” I say. “You’re a bloody hero.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says. “He almost had me today. It was a near thing. There was this moment when I felt like absolute shite. Like the world’s biggest loser. And then I knew I was going away for good. I was about to be….. extinguished.” He swallows hard. His adam’s apple does that thing that it does and I kiss it. “And then….. And then you were there.”

And then he just wants to kiss me.

“It’s not really over," he says at last, with a sigh, and he sounds tired, rather than triumphant. “He’ll be back, you know.”

I watch the stars and wonder, vaguely about what the future holds. It doesn’t seem very important right now.

“You gave me your sword,” I say.

He shrugs. “It was better than letting you bite him."

“Thank you,” I say. “I never thought…. I never expected…….”

“Can it be done now?” he asks, cutting me off. But I can tell, by the way he’s asking that he knows the answer. “You gave it a good go. Can't you just let the blood vengeance thing….rest?”

“No,” I say. “Simon, you know I can’t.”

“I know,” he says sadly. “I just wish it could be different.”

“I don’t have to kill him now,” I say. “Maybe it will be a long time from now. Maybe years. But I still have to.”

We’re quiet together, in the spring night, holding each other up.

“You at least deserve a blow job.” I say

“I’m all right,” he says. ”I’ve more self control than you, apparently.”

“That’s bollocks,” I say, and then I do swat him, weakly.

“I can wait until we get back to our room,” he says, catching my wrist, and bringing my fingers to his mouth where he kisses them lightly, teasingly. “Then I’m planning to have you shag me until I see stars.”

“We’re seeing stars now,” I say, stupidly, looking up at the sky.

“The stars,” he says quietly, into my hair. “We’re in the stars.”


	14. Daffodils

**Simon**

The dirigible drops us in the forest outside Watford and we make our way through the woods to the rabbit tunnel; the six of us, plus Ebb, with Johnny Depp on her shoulder. When we get to the rabbit gate the gwythaint flies up onto the stone wall and perches there, high above us. He spreads his wings and squawks impatiently, like he can’t understand why we’re not all taking the easy route and following him. His black wings glint in the moonlight. I feel the pull of my own wings between my shoulder blades, but I manage to keep them tucked away.

I unlock the door with the rabbit key and everyone goes in, quietly. We’re all spent and there doesn’t seem to be much to say. Baz is hanging back, reluctant to enter the grounds, and I see that little furrow between his eyes. I press the rabbit key into his hand. “Go hunt,” I whisper, my lips brushing his ear lightly. “I’ll see you back at the room.”

Penny’s Mum is in the courtyard, waiting for us, when we come through the tunnel. She grabs Penny in a tight hug and won’t let her go. It’s a bit weird, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen them touch each other before, or show physical affection of any kind. She looks her daughter over. She brushes the the wound on her head with one light finger. “Your father called and told me what happened,” she says. “You’re sleeping in my room tonight. The rest of you had best get to bed.”

********

It’s nice to have the room to myself for a few moments. It’s peaceful. Something I haven’t felt in a while. First thing I do is take the dream catcher out of my pocket and hang it over Baz’s bed. He has a box of pushpins on his desk in his hyper-organized way (I probably have a couple in the bottom of a drawer somewhere) and I grab one and drive it into the wall and hang the leather loop over it. It sparkles and pulses slightly against the cream colored wall.

Then I strip out of my filthy, bloodstained clothes and step into the shower, making it as hot as I can stand. The water pounds my skin and the steam surrounds me. I look down at my naked self. My skin is covered with moles that always make me feel like I have smallpox or something. Baz doesn’t seem to mind, though. I think of him, of him being here in the shower with me, and watch my cock grow hard and long and stick straight out in front of me.

I dry off in the steamy bathroom and wrap a towel around myself. Back in our room I switch on the bedside lamp and turn out the overhead switch, so the light is soft and cozy. I wonder, for a second, if I’m acting too gay, adjusting the lighting like that, and then realize that I don’t really give a fuck.

In Baz’s closet there’s another one of his posh dressing gowns. This one is a made of dark green satin. The fabric is heavy and shiny and looks almost black at a certain angle. I put it on. I like the feel of it against my skin, smooth and dense. I stand by the window and look out across the quiet grounds. It’s the middle of the night and there’s no one about. I see a light on in the headmaster’s window, up in the Weeping Tower, where Penny and her Mum must be rehashing all that’s happened. I look over at the barn, where another light shines low in the darkness, and I know Ebb is down there, feeling sad about her brother. I’ll have to go visit her tomorrow.

I stand at the window and think about everything that’s happened. Baz said I was a hero, but I don’t feel like one. I just bumbled my way through, as usual. All instinct, no control. A bull in a china shop, and luckily, this time, no one I care about got broken. And it’s not really over yet, either. They’re both still out there, somewhere. The Mage and the Humdrum. I wonder if they’ll find each other, start working together again. I wonder how much time I have.

An owl calls in the night, the spooky barking cries reverberating on the stone walls surrounding the silent courtyard.

I see a dark shadow, moving across the grounds. Baz, striding purposefully, tall and lean, his cloak billowing around him. My pulse quickens at the sight of him.

I do feel different. I feel older. It’s more to do with Baz than anything, really. It’s knowing that I love him, and he loves me back. It’s knowing that we came through all that shit intact. Everything else is still a jumble of mixed up feelings inside me, anger on top of hurt, and underneath, the worry that I’ll never be good enough. Knowing the Mage is my dad and how he treated me like crap. Knowing my mother is dead and out there in the cold woods in some unmarked grave. Knowing that someday, I’ll have to fight this battle again. That someday, the world will be looking to me to save it once again, and as usual, I’ve no idea how I’m going to do that.

Knowing how close I came to just going out.

The door opens and Baz is in the room, bringing the fresh smell of the spring woods and night air with him. His cheeks are pink and his lips are dark red and he gives me a look of pure hunger. He crosses the room and takes me in his arms.

We come together with a crash of hard chest on hard chest, rough cheeks brushing each other and his mouth is on mine. _'This is worth surviving for,'_ I think as my arms go around him and I pull him towards me. ' _This makes me want to carry on, whatever the future brings.'_ His hands are on my back sliding down the slithery fabric to my waist, then past my waist to my arse. He grabs on, his fingers spreading, probing, sliding over the green satin, stroking me through the heavy fabric until my insides are all twisted and squirming.

We work him out of his filthy clothes, eager and fumbling and he pushes me down onto his bed on my back. He works his mouth down my belly to my cock, where it feels so good and then he’s moving further down, down to my balls and my arse. His tongue makes little circles around it, licking me open, until I almost can’t stand it anymore. He flips me onto my belly  and he enters me. It’s hard and fast and rough and it feels great. His hand goes around my cock. It’s nested in his first, moving with every thrust. “I love you, “ I gasp out. I can’t help telling him. “I love you inside me.” And I do. It feels so good, the inside, the outside, Baz’s  rough breathing on the back of my neck. I feel the muscles of my arse clenching, as I writhe and push back against that hardness deep within, trying to get more of him inside me. I put my hand on his as he rubs me, guiding him, getting him to go harder and faster. It feels so good, I couldn’t hold back if I tried.The goodness of it is pulsing through me. I feel him starting to come as well, his breath in ragged gasps, his arm squeezing my chest like a vise and then it's finished.

We lie there for a long time, breathing together like one being. At last he groans and rolls off of me. He gets up and fumbles around among his clothing that’s in a big messy pile on the floor and when he gets back in bed he’s wearing Agatha’s mouthguard. He grins at me sheepishly. He really does look silly and I feel ridiculously pleased at the sight of him like that.

“Stop it,” he says, his words muffled.

“Stop what?” I say grinning back at him.

“Stop smiling at me like that.”

“Can’t help it,” I say. “You’re adorable.” He swats at my ear but I catch at his hand and then wrestle him onto his back on the bed. I’m on all fours over him and I lower my head to kiss his widows peak. He sighs and pulls me down until I’m nested in his arms, my head against his chest. It’s nearly morning, and I feel the tiredness deep in my bones.

“G’night, Simon,” he sighs.

“G’night Baz.”

*********

**Simon**

Ebb won’t let Johnny Depp live at the barn anymore. He’s gotten too big, and she’s afraid he’s going to eat one of the baby goats. Baz reluctantly lets him move into our room. He can’t really say no, after all Johnny Depp has done for us. We build him a perch by the window. He’s really a good pet. He’s housebroken and actually very clean. Baz is afraid his presence is going to interfere with our sex life, but he seems to know when to make himself scarce, and he’s gone most nights anyway until dawn, hunting in the woods and fields around the school, then swooping into the open window and falling asleep with his head under his wing.

After everything that’s happened it’s nice to have some time to just be normal. We’re all way behind on schoolwork and Penny is fierce about studying schedules and getting caught up. No time for goofing off, she says. It’s our last semester. She and Baz are neck and neck for number one in our class. It’s busy, but in a good way. Baz is still working at Starbucks. The feud with his father is over, but he says he likes having his own money. I’m still working in the kitchens for Cook Pritchard. Football season starts and there’s practice every afternoon and games on weekends. I sit in the stands with Penny and Agatha and we watch Baz and Dev and Niall. Watford is having a good season. We’re three and one, currently.

Penny won’t talk about her and Niall, though it’s obvious something is going on. Baz probes her mercilessly to try to get it out of her. It’s pretty funny to watch the two of them, sparring. They’re evenly matched, though. All Penny will say is that she and Micah agreed to try seeing other people for a while and Baz should be a gentleman and just shut up. And there’s nothing he can really say to that.

It’s spring. The grounds are green and the apple trees are flowering. The little ‘uns are running around in the warm afternoons, playing hopscotch and jump rope and tag. Ebb is quiet and sad about Nico. I go down to the barn almost every afternoon to help her with chores and sit for a cuppa. She smiles at the antics of the kids. We don’t talk much. I hope, eventually, she’ll be okay.

Baz hunts in the evenings. He comes back to our room with a different kind of hunger in his eyes and then we’re holding onto each other, making each other feel so good. Skin to skin, heart to heart. Love and lust rising and falling between us. Dreaming in each other's arms.

****** 

**Baz**

One gorgeous spring afternoon Simon is waiting for me after practice, holding a wilted bunch of daffodils.

“For me?” I say, making it into a joke. The football team is all around us and I don’t quite get what’s going on. Stupid romantic gestures aren’t really Simon’s style.

“No,” he says, embarrassed. “I …..just….. come with me, okay?”

He leads me off into the Wavering Woods. We walk for a long time. Simon is tense, silent, his magic close to his skin. I haven’t seen him like this for a long time. He’s looking about, trying to find something, remember a path once taken. I don’t push him to explain. I can guess what he’s after.

We walk until we get to a place I’ve never been to, though I know these woods better than any student at Watford, probably. The light is getting low around us. I sense the animals moving about, getting more active. It’s a good time of day for hunting, and the predator in me is awakened, alert.

Simon is moving slowly, casting about, trying to figure out where to go. At last he stops and takes my hand and squeezes it and then I feel it too. The tingle of magick. Not our own. A deep tingle, rooted in the earth. I look up and there is a centaur standing in the shadows of the trees. Rich brown flanks and white blond hair tumbling down his very very straight back. Tall and proud, a couple of heads taller than we are. His eyes are green kaleidoscopes shining in the evening shadows.The color of sunlight through trees. He nods at the two of us, standing there holding hands in the dusk, and moves swiftly through the woods. We follow.

It isn’t far. A small clearing, with low branches hanging down framing it. The new grass is soft and green and I wonder if the centaurs have been tending this spot, through the years. There’s a plain white stone, marking the head of Lucy Salisbury’s grave.

The centaur stands at the edge of the clearing silently. I look up and his eyes lock onto mine and time stands still. For a few moments (or is it a few hours?), I see the world as the centaurs do. Each breath, each puff of wind, each movement spreading out into ever wider and wider circles, creating a destiny that changes from moment to moment. Every action with consequences way beyond what we can foresee or imagine. All our human choices and actions part of a pattern so huge we can’t even fathom it.

He puts his hands together and bows his head. “You have comported yourself well. You have the friendship of the centaurs if ever you should need it. A blessing on you both.” He looks into my eyes again and smiles, briefly.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I don’t believe that one such as you has ever before received the centaur’s blessing,” he says. “Use it well.” And he is gone silently into the woods.

Simon lays the daffodils on the grave. _**“April showers**_ ,” I say and they are no longer wilted. Something I’ve done time and again, at my own mother’s graveside. Simon’s standing there quietly, not crying, and I reach over and put an arm around him. He lays his head on my shoulder.

“I don’t know what I should feel,” he says sadly. “I never even had a chance to miss her.”

“You can’t miss someone you never knew,” I say.

“She was still my mother,” he says.

“Yes, she was.”

“I’ve a picture,” he says and pulls out a tattered photo. “Agatha got it for me somehow.” I stare at the image. Mitali Bunce and the Mage, on the great lawn, looking young and carefree, with a lovely blond girl seated between them. Lucy Salisbury.

“She’s beautiful,” I say. I’m fervently glad that I have more of my mother than just a photo. Actual memories. The smell of clove drops. The feel of her hands. The timbre of her voice. I wonder what she’d think of me and Simon. I like to think that she’d be okay with it - that she’d be happy for me.

“It’s so lonely out here,” Simon says.

“But peaceful," I say. “And beautiful.” I think that I’d rather be laid out here, in the living breathing woods than down in a crypt under centuries worth of old stone, the way my own mother is.

He must be reading my thoughts because he turns to me and says, “If I die in all of this, bury me out here, next to her.”

“All right,” I say. “Me too.”

“I thought you were immortal,” he says.

I shrug. “I don’t really know if I am or not. But I know I don’t want to live in the world without you.”

We stand there until the stars are starting to twinkle in the clear spring sky and then we head back to the castle together slowly, hand in hand.

********

**Simon**

I wait by the rabbit gate for Baz while he hunts. It’s not cold at all. The frogs are singing down by the little pond where we skate in the winter and the air smells sweet. The moon is a crescent hanging low in the sky. I lean against the rough stone wall and try to make sense of it all, but honestly, I’m mostly enjoying the peace and the beauty. It feels good not to have to think, for the moment. It feels good just to be.

I look up to Mummer’s House and watch Johnny Depp swoop out of our window in the turret and fly low over the woods in search of game. We won’t see him until morning.

Then Baz is there, and his arms are around me and his cheeks are warm. When he kisses me I catch the faint tang of fresh blood, and I don’t mind. It makes me happy because I know he’s gotten what he needs, at least for tonight.

I know it’s not over for me. I know the worst is probably still to come. I know next time I might not survive, or the world of magick might not survive, or both. But here in this moment, on this beautiful spring night, loving Baz and knowing he loves me, it all feels worth it.

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all who have travelled with me to the end of this journey. I have enjoyed inhabiting this world so much. Your comments and support are very much appreciated. Cheers. PB


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